


Eve's Magical Adventure

by PseudoTwili



Category: Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Genre: Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen, eventual barnlaw, lots of other stuff..., some humor too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoTwili/pseuds/PseudoTwili
Summary: Just because the veil of deception has been lifted from the town doesn’t mean that magical things can’t happen, right? All in Labyrinthia face new lives, intricately woven by fate, touched by stories of past and present, bringing mirth and laughter, heart-wrenching moments, tears, danger, and perhaps even a little bit of love…Starring:Eve "the Great Witch" BeldukeEspella "Bezella" CantabellaZack "the Iron Fist" Barnham





	1. Of Strawberries & Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Espella take time off for a picnic and a little bonding time.

"Come on, Eve! We're almost there!" the blonde girl cried, briefly turning her head toward her companion.

The other young woman muttered something about the "cursed forest" as she half tripped over a hidden root and nearly upended herself and the basket that she bore in the crook of her arm. "Oh, Espella, do stop running so fast!" she cried, and then muttered to herself, "I should have worn something other than these sandals…"

The object of her admonition did not cease pace, but only danced around a huge boulder with her own basket bumping against her leg, and then disappeared from sight. Upon coming around that same obstacle, Eve sighted her friend already spreading a be-flowered cloth over the soft grass in a shady portion of a sun-speckled glade.

"This is it," Espella said, smiling happily up at her. "Is it not a pretty spot?"

Eve let a few breaths restore her as she gazed at her surroundings; though she knew the forest well, she had hardly thought of places such as this for something so simple and mundane as a picnic. She had to admit, with the flowers and much greenery thrown carelessly in every direction and the sun warmly kissing all, it was quite charming, especially with the little stream that gurgled and giggled through one corner of the clearing. She knelt on the cloth, setting her basket next to the one the other girl had carried.

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" she asked, pursing her lips and disagreeably crossing her arms loosely about herself. "You know I appreciate the thought…but I have many things to do, Espella. There is so much work to be done in town and it will take much our time."

"I knew you'd say that. You're too prone to getting caught up in your work, just like Dad," the blonde girl declared, half exasperated and half saddened. Suddenly Espella grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly and fixing her friend with a softly wistful expression. "If we spent all day, every day together it would never make up for the time we lost when I forgot about you. I…I only want to spend some time with you, Eve…because you are my best friend…"

The other young woman almost choked on a stab of emotion that caught at her throat and which she attempted to disguise as something between a growl and a "Hmph!" She remembered all too well the similar pleadings that had passed the lips of a much younger Espella, and of the many escapades in which they took part, naughty adventures which were just as often a result of Eve's well-cultivated imagination than the younger girl's propensity for trouble.

She suddenly recalled one such instance in which they'd both been playing with their dolls and for want of something more exciting to do, the elder child had suggested that they pretend their toys were shipwrecked.

~O~

Though their parents had warned them about playing in unknown bodies of water, the tiny creek to which they ran was fairly harmless due to its shallow nature. They found a handy bit of branch, about two feet long, to which the elder child fastened their dolls with her two hair ribbons. However, as they removed their shoes, Espella's little brows crinkled and she cast a concerned look toward her doll and then her friend.

"They won't really drown, will they?" the little tyke questioned, for she dearly loved her doll, made so carefully by her mother.

"No, of course not. Look, we'll put the ship up here on the shore—see, they won't go anywhere—and then we'll build up these rocks so they won't float downstream."

They struggled with the slippery stones until they formed a half circle barricade in the middle of the creek. Espella still appeared doubtful about the safety of the whole project, but her friend assured her by placing their crude sort of boat in the area they'd prepared.

"See? They'll be perfectly all right. Our ship won't go over the wall. Now it's time for the shipwreck."

Eve pressed the pretend vessel downward, soaking both it and their toys.

"Oh! It's sinking! Our dolls are going to drown if we don't save them! Espella, what do we do?!"

"Um…" muttered she, gnawing at her knuckle. "Can't we untie them?"

"No, we have to send out another boat to save them. This is deep water, so they'd never be able to swim. A lifeboat is the only way! Hurry!"

Espella found herself getting caught up in the play as she looked for something that could serve as a rescue device for their unfortunate children. She spotted a much smaller, water-softened hunk of wood a few yards up the shoreline and ran for it.

"Here's the boat!"

"Here we go to the rescue," said Eve, and with much splashing she waded through the ankle-deep water to the perilously capsized vessel. "Oh dear! This is such a small boat that we can only rescue one doll at a time."

The smaller girl followed closely at her heels to the scene of disaster. "Rescue my doll first, okay, please? She's a lot scareder."

"Okay, but you have to take the boat to shore. Hurry, Espella!"

After she untied the blonde doll from the ill-fated ship, the owner of said toy guided their one life preserver to shore. Placing her on a rock some feet from the shoreline, Espella patted the tiny cloth body and whispered, "Don't worry, you're safe now! I'll be right back."

Then they rescued Eve's doll, amid many more splashes and little screams that were supposed to come from the mouths which could not speak, but the girls were so often interrupted by their own giggles that the cries weren't especially convincing. Finally, both pretend children were safe but sopping on the sandy shore and the ship from which they had so narrowly escaped had one end only slightly above the water.

"We saved them just in time."

"That was fun! Let's do it again!" Espella crowed.

And again they did, saving their dolls from that waterlogged vessel not just one, but three more times. As they neared the end of yet another perilous mission of rescue, the little girls were but a few spots from being as completely soaked as their dolls. Their skirts were three shades darker and clung to their legs, slightly impairing their movement, and their heads were perhaps the areas least affected by the creek water.

Then, in her haste to bring her doll to shore, the foot of the younger one slipped against one of the rocks and she lost all balance. With a splash, she suddenly found herself on her hands and stinging knees in the water. This happened just as Eve was freeing her own doll from the ill-fated ship, a task from which she was distracted when she noticed her friend's tumble.

She hurried to her side. "Espella, are you okay?"

"M-my knee hurts," the younger child replied, and to her much of the pleasure had faded from their play. "My doll… Where is she?" she cried, alarm creeping into a tone already hinting at some tears.

They both lifted their eyes and scanned the trickling tributary around them. Espella suddenly screamed and pointed. "Ahh! E-Eve, sh-she's…"

She attempted to scramble up and retrieve the beloved toy that was now making its way downstream, but again her legs got tangled, her knees throbbed and her breath was too choked up with tears. Eve, on the other hand, was quicker; she darted through the water, half stumbling a couple of times and striking her toe on a stone, but in the end she rescued the doll before it could drift more than a dozen or so yards downstream.

"Oh, you got her!" the blonde tyke sobbed, stretching forth her arms for the toy as if she was welcoming a lost child.

"That was close," admitted the elder girl. She was surprised at how loudly the blood sounded in her ears as she attempted to rid herself of trembling hands by clutching at her skirt. "I'm sorry, Espella. I guess this wasn't such a good idea after all… Do you want to stop now?"

The other child nodded and, still clutching the doll to her heart, rose on shaky legs to make her way to shore. She took a glance about and it occurred to her childish mind that something was missing. "Where's your doll?"

Eve also turned to look at the poor sodden ship to which her plaything had previously been "clinging". The driftwood was still there, caught against the rocks that prevented it from sailing downstream, but the dark-haired doll had seemingly vanished. She stared for several moments, hardly comprehending what the evidence of her eyes told her.

"Oh no! Eve, your doll…" The tears of the younger girl began flowing in earnest. "Oh, E-Eve-e!"

"It's okay. You don't have to cry about it," murmured her friend in return, putting her arm about Espella's damp shoulders. Her voice was shaky and a few tears prickled at the edges of her deep, blue-green eyes.

But the blonde girl blubbered on, "You saved my doll…and n-now yours is gone! I'm so-orry!"

"Come on, don't cry now. We should go back…"

~O~

The recollection of that misadventure made a ghost of a smile steal to the young woman's lips as she knelt on the picnic cloth. For just a few moments she forgot that she was quite grown up and that she was being lax in her duty by taking time off for a picnic.

"Where are you, Eve?" came the voice of her companion, breaking through the cloudy veil of memory.

Had Espella said something just before? Eve realized that she had been staring toward the ground, past the hand that the blonde girl was still holding.

"Do you remember the time that we played shipwreck with our dolls?" she asked pensively.

Espella nodded. "I was so relieved that mine was safe, but I also felt torn because yours was lost…" She gave her friend a very knowing look. "…And you pretended that it didn't matter to you so much."

"I was a bit old for dolls, as I recall."

"You only said that because you didn't want me to feel bad about it. Didn't you want another?"

A very familiar, rather subtle smile found its way to Eve's face again as she replied, "My mother asked me if I wanted her to make another…but I simply couldn't think of replacing her. She was my only doll."

"And she was special," the other girl mumbled, toying with one of her blonde plaits. "We both loved them like children."

"Whatever happened to yours, Espella? Did she…survive?"

She nodded, her own eyes misting over with a combination of tears and the memories that rose before her. "I left her on my bed in the tower. I… I guess she's been pretty lonely all this time…"

Shaking her head, Eve lifted her eyes, all traces of her previous emotions gone from her face. "Listen to the two of us…blathering on about dolls and their feelings. I feel very silly for initiating this conversation. I really should be back in town, overseeing the work."

"No, you can't leave now that we've come all the way here!" Espella said quickly. She released her friend's fingers and began removing the contents of first one basket and then the other. "And don't fear, I will keep you busy enough," she added, selecting two of the sandwiches so carefully prepared by both her hands and those of Patty Eclaire.

"What do you mean?"

"Vu'll fee," the younger of the two mumbled through the bread in her mouth. She pressed the other sandwich into Eve's hands, grabbed both baskets, now empty, and stepped gaily to the sunniest part of the clearing. She pulled the sandwich from her mouth after taking a small bite, gestured and called to her friend, "This way, Eve!"

"Espella, what are you up to?" the other young woman questioned, a hint of suspicion in her voice. All the same, she drew closer to the spot where the girl was crouched amongst the low-growing foliage, most of which bore leaves with jagged edges.

"Look!" Espella exclaimed softly, holding up a palm which contained five very luscious, brilliantly scarlet berries. "You must taste one, Eve! They're much better than even candy."

"Very well," she replied, taking one of the small fruits and slipping it between her lips, inhaling its sweet, ripe scent. The juice melted wonderfully over her tongue and a few of the seeds made little gritty sounds as they came in contact with her teeth; she found herself wishing for another such delectable morsel.

"Is it not a wonderful strawberry? I found this spot when I lost the path on the way to the shade village yesterday. Won't you help me pick a lot of these, Eve?" the younger girl pleaded. "I want to fill up these baskets and take them back to the bakery to make jam!"

The elder of the two turned her head aside, avoiding Espella's earnest gaze. For lack of anything else to do, she took one bite from the meat, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Was it really so important that she shirk all her important tasks to pick strawberries with her friend? She wanted to refuse, but something aside from the food in her mouth kept her from answering thusly.

"Eve?"

She met the dark blue eyes of her friend once more. "…Very well."

"Oh Eve, you're wonderful! Here, this basket is yours."

The dark-haired young woman gripped the basket in her scarred right hand and she noticed that Espella's sandwich was nearly gone. Even if they were both ravenous, she simply did not know how the two of them were supposed to finish the miniature banquet with which the baker had set them off.

"I don't suppose you have any other surprises for me?"

Espella was suspiciously silent for the next few seconds as she gulped the sweet berry in her mouth and twined a few leaves around her finger. "Uhm…"

Sighing, Eve pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "What is it now?"

"Well… I, uhm… I asked Dad to come too. You don't mind, do you? I only wanted a nice little picnic with the people I love best… I invited Aunt Patty as well, but she has to stay at the bakery because there's no one else to look after it if both of us are gone, you know… Uhm, Eve? You're not mad, are you?"

The other young woman shook her head gently and spoke hesitantly. "'Tis not that. I'm only…worried. I caused him so much grief by my actions, and yet the whole time he still tried to protect me… I should think he would be very angry with me."

"I think Dad feels the same way about you. He was reluctant to give me his word when I told him you were coming. I made him promise in the end though." The blonde girl smiled as she plucked another perfectly ripe berry and extended it toward her friend.

"Espella, I don't know about this…"

"Don't worry so. Just remember that Dad isn't angry with you. I'm sure all he wants is forgiveness and to right the wrongs that he caused with all the illusions."

Eve was silent; the troubled expression on her features told the other girl that her words were being carefully weighed. Then she let a long breath escape and mumbled something about trickery.

"Dad told me he'd be joining us a little later, so it gives us plenty of time to pick these strawberries. Try not to eat too many of them!"

"What? M-me? You're the one who always ate more than she gathered!"

"Hee hee!" Espella giggled.

With an exasperated yet good-natured huff, Eve stalked to another small patch of the berries some yards away from where her friend worked. She kicked off her shoes and knelt on the fragrant, loamy soil, selecting berries and placed them in her basket with the speed of a cat snapping up a mouse.

Both girls labored under the warm rays of the sun for some time, sometimes drifting into the shadow of the trees to go after more of the seeded little fruits. Eve felt both the perspiration prickling at her back, and the tingling of the muscles in her legs not used to all the crouching she was doing. Her long hair flowed loosely, covering both her neck and back and sometimes straying into her work; she looked to her friend, whose shorter tresses were braided as usual and falling over her shoulders. Sighing, she stood and used a length of ribbon to bind her hair. She gave no indication of quitting, though; once she had begun, she was determined to finish the job that would not be complete until her basket was filled to brimming with scarlet berries.

As she was about to drop one piece of fruit into the wicker container, she stopped. She blinked a couple of times and peered closer. "This one has some sort of insect in it," she said, holding aloft the new, if temporary, home of an unwelcome little guest.

"Eew… Please just throw it away, Eve. I don't want to see it," the blonde young woman pleaded.

"Hmm… " mused she, seeing an opportune moment to have a spot of playful revenge. "It seems to have dug its way into the flesh. It has such a lot of legs that perhaps it grew tired of walking around that it ate this little hole in which to rest itself. I don't think it has done much harm. I shall simply remove the little thing. It would be a pity to waste a lovely berry such as this, do you not think?"

Espella was on the verge of further expressing her disgust regarding the bug, but she was quite unexpectedly interrupted, first by a furious rustling that came from the trees at the edge of the clearing, and then as something small, short and white bounded toward her.

"Oh, it's Constantine," she realized at last. "You look so different without your cute little helm— Hey, no! Don't do that!" she cried, as the dog put his nose in her basket and all but inhaled a couple of mouthfuls of her berries before she could pull it from his reach. Some of the strawberries spilled out as she snatched it upward. "Naughty dog," she said, waggling her finger at him, and then giggling when he looked up at her with innocent expression. "I'd be madder at you if you weren't so cute, you know!"

Eve marched over, souring her pretty face with a scowl directed at the creature. "It's that mutt. When he's here, can his master be far behind?"

"Woof!"

As if he'd been summoned by a spell, the red-headed former inquisitor emerged from the trees in the direction whence his pet had just galloped. As soon as he caught sight of his dog and the young women, he proceeded with his usual purposeful stride; the distance between them became nothing in mere seconds. His grey eyes churned like stormy waters as he parted his lips to utter greeting to the two young ladies.

"Barnham, your dog has sabotaged our labors."

"Wh-what do you mean, Lady Darklaw?"

"He has helped himself to Espella's strawberries. Just look at him; he is caught red-mouthed," Eve told him in her authoritative tone of the high inquisitor.

He looked as she directed and shook his head sadly upon noting the evidence of guilt. The furry animal padded to his master's feet with a pitiful puppy face, his fluffy tail drooping sadly. "A knight never takes what does not belong to him," Barnham scolded his pet, his eyebrows dipping. He glanced up to the blonde girl. "On behalf of Constantine I am sorry, Miss Cantabella."

"It's okay," she replied, stooping to scratch the little fellow's head. "You didn't eat too many, did you, boy? Would you like a sandwich instead?"

Having received her forgiveness and with the promise of something delicious, he perked up considerably and with his tail wagging once more, he followed her to the picnic blanket in the shade, where she selected for him one of the sandwich triangles containing a particularly thick slice of meat. "Here you go," she said, and giggled as she watched him attack it as he would a formidable foe in blue. Then she moved to join her friend again, who was still sternly admonishing the knight for the actions of his dog.

"Are you aware that we've been laboring hard in the hot sun to pick these? It's not as easy to fill a basket as you might think."

Barnham's lowered brows remained settled directly on top his eyes. "Lady Darklaw, I assure you I will do what I can to make up for Constantine's actions."

"Very well," she conceded, turning toward her friend and watching as she approached. "I suppose I can ask no more."

Espella chose that moment to ask, "Uhm, Sir Barnham… I am surprised to see you back in Labyrinthia so soon. We all thought you would remain in London a while longer, after all."

If possible, his expression became still more rigid. "I thought that as well…" he said, and then faltered. He averted his gaze by turning his face toward the trees and ultimately in the direction of the great wall of the town.

Eve's own eyes widened a little as she glanced quickly at her friend. Tempering her tone to be less severe, she inquired, "And did you order the construction supplies?"

He turned his body toward them again, but he still didn't look directly at them. "I did," he replied rather abruptly. "I brought what I could in the boat. The rest will be ready for delivery in a couple more days' time."

The former high inquisitor nodded. "Good. We have need for every bit of it."

"What did you do after that? Did Mr. Layton and Luke show you around the city? I think I would like to go back there sometime and see more of it. I remember the bridge that lit up at night."

This time he looked at them, his eyes flickering between the young women. "Sir Top Hat invited me for tea. Perhaps I should have desired to spend more time in the city, but during that one mere day, all my thoughts kept coming back here. Constantine was restless as well; in truth, he nipped Sir Blue Knight three times while we walked the streets."

"Oh, you were homesick!" Espella murmured. "I'm sure I would have felt the same way, had I been in your place."

"Indeed," he agreed, the corners of his mouth relaxing ever so slightly. "There is no place that compares to Labyrinthia. After all, my time will be better directed in working to improve this town. Therefore, I bid Sir Blue Knight and Sir Top Hat farewell and returned as I came."

Eve had the distinct impression he omitted some detail from his narrative. She was also feeling more and more unnerved at the glances the knight cast mostly her way as he was speaking to them. Hoping to shut him up, she pressed toward him the strawberry that she held, nearly pushing it into his mouth. "Here," she mumbled.

Actually, he'd been looking at her, albeit rather sideways, because she seemed so different. For one thing, her attire was remarkably casual when one considered the grandness of her usual dress. Her thick hair, which reached well past her waist, was bound loosely, wisps and locks of it escaping at will. She made herself seem as though she was not enjoying herself, but her demeanor, while certainly not blithely exuberant and brightly beaming as Espella's was, bore more than a hint of simple happiness at a simple outing. Barnham was struck with the realization that she was extraordinary pretty, which was more than he'd expected from the chilly beauty that she exhibited as high inquisitor.

He accepted the scarlet morsel and quickly did it disappear. "My thanks, Lady Darklaw."

"Hmph." Turning to her blonde companion, she said, "Let's get back to our gathering, Espella, before the ants—or the dog—come and devour our picnic."

"Oh, Eve! You didn't give him that berry with the bug in it, did you?!" the other young woman cried with a sudden, slightly horrified realization.

"O-of course not!" she replied, too quickly.

But he had already swallowed the tiny morsel and looking none the worse for wear. "I saw nothing in it," he said, without admitting that he hadn't examined it at all.

"It was that same strawberry wasn't it? You didn't throw it away?!" Espella questioned, half thinking that her friend may have done it on purpose, but discarded the idea as it was too mean.

Eve looked nervously to the basket in her hands and then hardened her gaze as she turned her eyes upward again. "It matters not. No one, not even you, Barnham, will die as a result of swallowing a single insect."

"I suppose you're right…" the other young woman acquiesced. "I still think it's disgusting…"

Both girls moved back to the spots at which they'd been filling their baskets, but Eve turned to face the red-head once more. She couldn't decide if he was angry or sad and it was because of his eyebrows.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to make up for your little companion's irresponsibility?"

He started slightly. "Yes, of course, Milady."

An exasperated sigh left her pursed lips. "And you needn't continue calling me 'Lady Darklaw'. I am no longer high inquisitor but just plain Eve Belduke."

"As you wish, Lady D—er…M-Miss Belduke."

Espella giggled behind her hand and quickly bent to select more of the wonderful scarlet berries. Had he been carrying his sword, she was sure he would have held it before him in a motion of obedience as he stammered those words.

While Barnham made all haste to find the nearest patch of strawberries where he rapidly went to work, Eve slipped closer to her friend and whispered harshly in her ear, "I trust this wasn't your idea as well, Espella?"

"No, no, no," the younger of the two was quick to reassure her. "I promise you it wasn't! I didn't even know Sir Barnham was back."

"'Tis as I thought, but I had to be sure you hadn't planned any more surprises."

"You don't mind that he came along, do you Eve? He probably just wanted to take his dog for a little stroll. They both seemed really glad to be here…"

"Hmm…"

"Do you think we could share the picnic with him? Aunt Patty sent us off with so much food that I'm sure we wouldn't be able to eat it all, even when Dad comes."

"This is your picnic, Espella. You do whatever pleases you."

The blonde girl brightened with a large smile. "Thank you, Eve!"

They drifted apart and closer together again in their movements on the edges of the clearing and into the dappled places under some of the trees. It was quite a good thing for them that the knight had showed up, as they would surely finish their berry harvesting sooner, Espella was thinking. She put most of hers into her wicker, but every now and then she could not resist quickly popping one into her mouth and relishing its sweetness.

So devoted was she to her work that she failed to properly notice a small white shape that bounded up to her once more, until she heard a muffled "Ruff!" at her side. Constantine stood there, wagging his cream-colored tail and holding his mouth open just enough that he would not tear the strawberry which sat between his teeth.

"Oh you sweet thing, you!" the girl exclaimed, putting forth a hand into which the dog loosed the fruit. "You're trying to tell me you're sorry, aren't you?"

The little fellow wagged his tail vigorously, yipped once and ran off again, leaving Espella to smile to herself and place the nearly perfect berry with the others. Several times did he repeat the process, and each time the young woman smiled as he dashed away for another, until her basket brimmed with those delightful crimson morsels.

"We have so many berries!" she exclaimed delightedly. "I have quite enough now to make lots of jam!"

"It was the very least I could do, Miss Cantabella," said the knight, as he relinquished the contents of his hands once more to her basket. He was left with sticky, bright red palms and fingers, which at first he tried to wipe on his trousers, but quit when he came to the conclusion that he could not actually remove the stain without washing his hands.

"Thank you, Sir Barnham. You must stay and have some sandwiches with us."

He appeared doubtful. "You wish me to join you?"

"Of course," she replied. "We have plenty, I assure you."

Eve approached them, her own heavily laden wicker weighing the crook of her arm, and with just a bit of a smile curving her lips. "Surely you haven't anything more urgent to attend to?"

"No, Lady D—" he began, but caught her flashing, green-blue eyes. "…Miss Belduke. I have not."

"Good, that's settled then," Espella declared, smiling her soft, warm smile.

She grabbed her friend's hand, the fingers of which were as sticky as hers, and pulled her to the shady spot at which their picnic awaited them. She set both baskets carefully in one corner, so as not to disturb the twin heaps piled therein, and covered them with a couple of napkins. Then she and Eve began spreading out the little dishes of fruit and vegetables, the varied types and cuts of sandwiches, pickles, relish, and sweet rolls covered in cinnamon and all but stuffed with raisins.

Barnham crouched at one end of the cloth and his pet pressed against his leg, panting happily; he lowered one hand and surreptitiously allowed Constantine to lick his sweetened fingers. He cast a glance to each of the young women and noted their cheeks were flushed slightly pink and realized he was also quite warm and perspiring from moving around in the mid-afternoon sun.

"I hope you're hungry, Sir Barnham," Espella said. "Aunt Patty prepared a veritable feast for us!" She selected one of the sandwiches and immediately bit into it.

"Indeed," the knight agreed, selecting for himself another of the same. He broke off a small portion of it, which he passed to his dog, and put more than half of what remained in his mouth.

"I wonder when Dad will get here…" the blonde girl mused between chews.

Eve rubbed a plum on the picnic cloth and said in return, "Did you give him adequate directions?"

"Of course. I told him exactly how to get here. I hope he hasn't lost his wa—"

A deep voice interrupted her: "I spent much of my youth exploring this forest. I know this place as I know the town; in fact, I took a shortcut to get here."

"Dad!" Espella cried happily, rising and running toward him. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Cantabella smiled wryly as he put his arm around his daughter's shoulder. "The alternative would have been less desirable, I must admit."

"That's right, I would have been so mad at you if you hadn't come. Come on, Dad! Aunt Patty made us a wonderful picnic!" She tugged at his hand, drawing him toward the others.

At the appearance of the Storyteller, Barnham immediately jumped to his feet and stood very upright before he remembered that he was without his sword and therefore could not properly salute. Eve also rose, but more slowly than her companion; she seemed as though she wanted to step forward in a greeting not quite as exuberant as her friend's, but she stopped herself and awkwardly turned her gaze away.

The white-haired gentleman nodded to both. "Good afternoon, Eve," he said, his words a mite hesitant. Shaking his head, he added, "I…I am glad to see you are enjoying this beautiful day." Briefly, he fixed his eye on the knight. "Barnham. I did not expect to see you here."

"E-er…yes, sir. It seems I returned sooner than everyone expected."

"He happened along, Dad, and I invited him," Espella informed him.

"Ah. I see."

"Barnham, do stop looking like you could drop through the nearest worm hole!" the dark-haired woman hissed. "You're making me nervous!"

Father and daughter seated themselves on the cloth, followed by a very quiet Eve and lastly, and almost reluctantly, by a thoroughly embarrassed Barnham. Even the little white pup ceased his eager barking and goings back and forth into the trees, and instead placed himself quietly next to his friend and master.

"Do you know what Eve did?" the younger girl chattered.

"I have the impression you're going to tell me," the writer of stories replied. In an effort to disguise the smile that crept upon him, he reached for a pickle, his one visible eye taking in both females and their unexpected guest.

"Espella, please…" her friend tried to protest.

Without mercy, however, the blonde young woman continued. "She gave Sir Barnham a berry with a bug in it! I told her she should throw it out, but she didn't."

"Hmm…is that why he is so red in the face?" Cantabella mumbled.

Glancing to both former inquisitors, Espella noticed how very scarlet of face they both were, even considering the knight's seemingly perpetual tan. She giggled to herself again and took two of the sweet buns.

"Here, Dad. Aunt Patty and I made these especially for you. What do you think?"

He accepted the proffered morsel and bit into it, leaving some of its pale crumbs in his whiskers. "Hmmmm…" he mused, savoring the bun much too slowly for his daughter's sake. "I believe I have tasted the best bit of bread you've made."

"You haven't tasted my bread until now," she reminded him, smiling coyly as she imagined rectifying that problem over time with a great many more samples.

"Hmph," he rumbled under his breath. He swallowed the rest of the bun, its sweetness gone; the white-haired gentleman took a long sip of water. Selecting a sandwich filled with lettuce and tomatoes, he faced his head knight. "Well Barnham, what caused you to return to this town so soon? I thought that with the chance you would take more time to see the outside world after all these years."

"Lord Storyteller, I… I was not satisfied with any of it. The place I love is right here…this town. If you approve, I wish to remain here."

Cantabella could not find the right words for several seconds and only his daughter could glimpse his averted face. He chose to bypass the issue of his address, for the time being. "I…am very glad to hear that. I would like to you to continue to guide our town in your capacity as leader of the knights."

Espella gripped her best friend's hand and beamed toward her, as if to say, "Someone else who wants to stay!"

"I will continue to serve you and all in the town with honor, Milord!"

Eve was tempted to roll her eyes at her former subordinate's knightly exhibitions, but that would only have been a disguise for the nearly overwhelming feeling of gratification that surged within her. She hadn't much chance to think on it, but she realized how tiresome her tasks of reconstruction would be without him there to help her, to give her someone to vent her frustrations, even when her tongue was sharp, someone to handle the heaviest work that was beyond her, and who came up with constructive, if sometimes weird, ideas. Attempting to imagine what the town, nay, what her life would be like without him, brought her pause. She was so used to him being around that she could only barely recall when first he'd joined Project Labyrinthia.

The youngest member of the party swallowed some clear, cold creek water and watched with soft eyes as Barnham scratched his pup's ears. The little fellow then pounced upon a bit of meat which had somehow slipped from the knight's sloppily-held sandwich; he wrestled with it as he chomped it to bits. The girl chuckled and garnered the attention of the dog, who panted adorably and stared at her with little eyes that were fiercely cute. Upon glancing at her friend, she noted that Eve cast stealthy glares in the red-head's direction.

"Dad, do you remember the dolls Eve and I used to play with?"

"I certainly do. I do not know who was more devastated by the loss of her doll—you or Eve."

His brows lowered as he recalled the little doll with blonde braids lying for five years had on the bed of a girl who did not return. It was his fault that— Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as Constantine found and began tearing a large, mayonnaise-covered leaf of lettuce.

Espella and even Eve laughed at the little fellow's antics. "Oh, do you remember that time we made hats for ourselves out of huge cabbage leaves?" the blonde girl giggled.

Barnham lifted his gaze to the two young women and his eyebrows also rose. Constantine paid no attention to anyone and continued his battle with the leaf.

"Newton and Sara thought some strangely selective rabbits had found their garden," the Storyteller recalled, his own mouth twisting up into a gruff sort of smile.

"Must you repeat those…stories, Espella?!" the other young woman demanded, her cheeks once more a decided shade of pink. She would have bitten off her tongue before admitting how embarrassing it was. The last thing she needed was for Barnham to imagine her with a cabbage leaf on her head. He'd never respect her again.

"Oh, don't be such a wet blanket, Eve! There's no harm in it. We were only little girls!"

"I-I know…but…" she faltered. Protesting against her friend's soft eyes and contagious smile was like someone trying to fight stories which invariably came true.

Cantabella stared fixedly at her for a few moments and averted his eyes again. He grew increasingly quieter as the picnickers consumed all the kind baker had packed, save for a few crusts that Espella tucked away in her pocket. She had a very good idea what her father had on his mind and before he could ask anything, let alone look in her direction, she arose.

"I am going to find some birds to feed these crusts to. Won't you and Constantine come with me, Sir Barnham?"

"O-of course," replied a surprised knight, who also stood. To his embarrassment, he found that one foot had fallen asleep and he hobbled after the girl, trying to shake the blood back into it.

A full minute of silence passed, which only seemed to grow stiffer by the second. Eve felt that she could not raise her eyes to meet that of the man who still remained. She wished that she had gone with her friend, even if it meant some useless meanderings on a goose chase, and all the while she idly traced the old burn mark on her hand.

"Soon, I will be leaving Labyrinthia for a while," the Storyteller said at last.

"Y-yes, I know… Your operation," she murmured, still unable to raise her eyes.

"Yes. And while I am gone, I trust you will look after the town, as you always have."

Her eyes met his at last and she noticed for the first time how gentle he looked upon her, the same sort of gaze she'd seen before but had always assumed that he was critically analyzing her. "Of course. I always will."

"Thank you, Eve." He closed his eye. "I am sure you young people don't want a sick old man in your way…I'll take my leave now." He rose slowly and turned away.

She remembered how lost and alone she had felt after her father died and she was left to oversee the greater part of Labyrinthia's wellbeing on her own. She became the single citizen who constantly lived both in the town and without, who knew the truth behind the magic, and such a burden it was. If only she'd known everything then…

"No, wait!" she exclaimed, raising her voice more than she had intended.

He faced her again, his cold blue eye seeming to peer into her soul.

"…I am sorry. It is all I can say, but it is not enough to return you for the kindness you've shown me, Mr. Cantabella, through everything," she said, every second forcing the accursed tears to stay behind her eyelids.

He shook his head. "No, Eve. It is enough that you and Espella are friends again. I… It has been a long time since I have seen her so completely happy. No…" He pressed his fist over his heart and bent his head. "It is I who asks your forgiveness for everything I've done."

She'd never really been alone; she knew that now. Both her father and this man cared for her to such an extent that they tried to protect her from the horrible truth. To consider that she was so loved made her heart squeeze and her stomach to constrict with so many butterflies. It was a thought that she'd tucked deep into her soul to extract when she needed comfort.

"I know my father's research will not fail you…" she mumbled, struggling with the words. "I only wish he could be here to witness the results." The young woman mustered a sad little smile.

The Storyteller glanced up once more, the edges of his mouth turning up wryly.

Some few moments of silence passed, in which Eve pushed her toes against the picnic blanket and decided to find her sandals; she started off, but then she turned. "Don't leave yet, please. Espella will be upset if you go so soon."

He made a sound in the back of his throat and she knew that he wouldn't be going anywhere just yet. As she searched for her leather footwear, hoping they would be where she left them and her friend hadn't found them a new location, she made a vow to herself that she would continue to be the very best friend who for years had been missing from a certain blonde girl's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these characters so much! More to come...


	2. Sir Apprentice Baker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barnham struggles with the aftermath of Project Labyrinthia and finds himself working at the bakery.

The girl with the twin blonde braids hurried across the cobblestones, keeping the bundles she held close to her body so that she would not bump the other citizens she passed along the street. A few of them noticed her and offered her a smile or a wave, and some a greeting; mostly, however, the people were conversing and sometimes arguing quite animatedly.

Everyone is still talking about it. It is a big step, but I think a good one for this town, she thought as she hurried along.

"There you are, child!" came the voice of the motherly baker. She came forward, her floury rolling pin still in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Patty," Espella replied as she stepped through the bakery entrance, her skirt brushing the arrangement of loaves set out for display. "Everyone is still talking about the meeting two days ago and it was hard to finish my shopping quickly." She busied herself with some dough as the baker put away the items she had brought back.

"All the customers were talking about it, too," Patty agreed. "It is the talk of the town."

"Then I stopped by the old courthouse to see if Eve was there."

The elder woman's voice floated up the steps of the underground pantry. "I'm surprised you weren't gone longer, then. Was she not there?"

"No-o…" the young woman replied hesitantly, as if wondering how she should proceed. She left the dough unattended while she idly traced her finger in the flour on the counter.

The baker thumped up the steps once more, her eyebrows lowered and a dangerous little smile on her face. "What happened, Espella? Those two rogues did not accost you again, did they?!"

"Oh no, no, no. Nothing like that!" the girl assured her quickly. "It's just…when I was in the courthouse I heard something." She paused again.

Patty's face relaxed. "What was it, dear?"

"Uhm, well… I heard someone in the courtroom, but I didn't think anyone was working in there. Eve told me it'll be weeks yet before they get around to converting it and I was surprised. I peeked in the door and saw…" She glanced up at her adopted aunt. "It was Sir Barnham. He looked…really, really sad and upset, and he banged his fist against the desk several times as he muttered to himself. …I didn't know what to say…and I didn't want to disturb him so I just left quietly."

"That does sound strange," the baker mused. "He seems like such a nice young man… It must be something serious to upset him so."

"Perhaps I could ask Eve to talk to him. She could probably get through to him," the blonde girl murmured.

Patty was quiet again as she put the flour, sugar and yeast into the cupboards. She peered once more into the baskets Espella had brought back, but they were quite empty.

"Espella, where are the zucchini and carrots?"

A floury hand flew to the girl's mouth. "Oh!" she cried. "I forgot…"

"When I go marketing I forget the milk. When you go, you forget the vegetables…" the woman sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Aunt Patty! I'll go right away and get some!"

"No child, I'll go this time. You keep at the dough," Patty commanded, smiling at her young charge. She dusted off her mitts and took hold of one of the now empty wicker containers, but before exiting, she turned and told the girl, "The buns come out of the oven in four minutes."

"I'll take them out, Aunt Patty, don't worry," she said, and waved one floured hand.

The baker smiled to herself as she marched toward the marketplace, where she knew she could buy the best for the least price. However, with her errand completed and on her way back, she stopped when she came to the fork of the path that led to the old courthouse. Her motherly heart gave a little throb of sorrow when she thought of the knight, alone and greatly saddened by something. Patty Eclaire is not about to start ignoring duty when she sees it, she thought, her plump cheeks pulled down in a slight frown.

Having made her decision, she strode resolutely toward the building and pushed open one of the heavy front doors. When this place is a theatre, they'd best have some doormen. The place was so quiet; she was sure she could hear the scamperings of mice or something even worse. She would have to mention to someone about getting a feline or two. Thankfully, with cat Eve at the bakery, she and Espella had few worries about rodents.

The doors to the courtroom itself were easier to manage; Patty opened it wide until it squeaked in groaning protest. The armored knight, who was leaning over the other side of the bench where he had stood so many times, jerked upright, his stormily grey eyes fixing themselves almost warily on the unexpected intruder. As she approached, Constantine came around the bench and also stared at her.

"M-Mrs. Eclaire… Wh-what brings you here?" he asked, attempting to hide the strain in his voice.

"Espella told me you were here and I was passing by," the baker replied without hesitation. "She was worried about you."

He started. "She…was worried…a-about me?"

Patty nodded, her visage softening. "I was too."

Barnham turned his face away, his jaw set and fists clenched. "Why?" he asked, so quietly that she wouldn't have heard the words if she hadn't moved closer. "Why, after what I've done?"

"And what have you done?" the baker questioned, placing her free hand on her hip and trying to grip a rolling pin she'd left behind.

"You ask me?" he said, his tone laced heavily with remorse. He closed his eyes tightly as if to block out some sight he desperately wished to avoid. "I thought she was a witch and almost caused her to be sent to the flames! I was so wrong! 'Tis my fault she and other girls like her suffered so!" Vehemently, he struck the bench with gauntleted fist.

"Hmm… Well, I cannot speak for Espella, but I do not hold it against you. I saw how you stood up for her that final night when the other knights were being rough with her."

"A small recompense for the horrors she faced before…" he muttered, he eyes on the metal covering his hands.

"As far as I can tell, you were only doing your job in the only way you knew how. But if it's the child's forgiveness you want, you'll have to ask her for it."

"A-ask her?"

"Of course, and you certainly can't do it by hiding away here. Sir Barnham, you will come to the bakery with me."

"T-t-to the bakery?! N-now?" the knight stammered, leaning upon his elbow and staring at the kindly woman as if she was asking him to swim the ocean in his armor.

"I believe I heard something about you giving up your sleeping quarters to make room for the new tourist project. Where are you staying now?"

"It matters not…" he began with a shake of his head, but then she furrowed her brows toward him. "T-that is, I have been sleeping here."

"In the courtroom?!"

"No, ma'am…I have appropriated one of the beds in the dungeon. It doesn't bother us were we sleep," he said, gesturing to the white dog at his feet.

"That simply will not do," she muttered, shaking her head. "The dungeons are no place for anyone to live." She purposely left off any comment about how hard Espella had told her the beds were, if she could even call them that. "Now, I want you to gather whatever things you have here and come to the bakery. Is that clear?"

Her dark, button-like eyes were as hard to resist as one of her best pastries, and her mouth was a firm, curvy little line in her dough-soft face. Who could stand long against such willpower and kind determination?

"Y-yes, Mrs. Eclaire. As you wish."

Though Patty still sensed a grieved look behind his eyes, she spared no time for further questions; after all, he wouldn't bare all his troubles so easily, but having some people around might bring him comfort. "Good," she said, nodding. "I expect to see you in five minutes, Zacharias Barnham." With that, she turned and exited the courtroom.

"What do you make of that, boy?" he mused, gazing downwards to his dog. "She is very forceful, isn't she?" Even stubborn, as Rouge might say…

As he descended the dark steps to the cell where he had slept for the last two nights, the word resounded in his mind. Stubborn… He was stubborn too. A stupid, stubborn fool…

~O~

Just an hour earlier he had been at Rouge's tavern and as he precariously perched himself on one of the unpredictable stools, the proprietress approached him. She waved off Cutter, who either wanted to show her his newest creation or to use her face for the next one. Meanwhile, Constantine was sniffing under each of the tables for either tidbits to eat or enemies to fight.

"Hey, Zack," she said, one corner of her mouth twisting up in her usual, knowing sort of smile. "Things have been hopping, haven't they?"

"Indeed," he replied. "There is much reconstruction and such to attend to. It makes for a great deal of work."

"And everyone has to adjust," the bar mistress added. "It's different now that the witches and magic are gone. But I like it. It's definitely better." She poured a chalice of simple juice for him, knowing that he was likely still on duty, and also prepared one for herself.

Barnham took a long draught and smacked it back to the countertop. "Ahh! Thanks, Rouge."

"You're still going to have to pay me for that, you know."

"Of course." He produced a coin from somewhere on his person and placed it on the counter, continuing where he'd left off before. "Ever more now is the plan for allowing tourists here. It will take a lot of work to set up, but it will assuredly bring much-needed funds to this town."

"Sure, sure," she muttered, hardly paying attention anymore. A few more moments of silence followed while he downed what remained in his cup. "Say, Zack?"

"Um-huh."

"You've been to the mainland several times in the last few months." She was actually rather quiet, quite the anomaly for the vivacious tavern keeper. "Have you, you know… Did you…find out…?"

The knight froze, the chalice in his hand inches from the top of the bar. He swallowed visibly, all traces of satisfaction gone from his face.

"Zack! Don't act like you didn't hear me! You did find out, didn't you?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly, averting his eyes by searching for his dog.

"C'mon, don't stop there! What did you find out?"

He could hardly raise his eyes to meet hers, and he fiddled idly with the vessel which was empty save for a few drops clinging to the side. "…He's dead, Rouge."

Standing abruptly, she shoved her own chalice aside, not caring when it fell to the floor and smashed. She fixed him with eyes that smoldered blue flames, her lips curved this time in anger. "Why didn't you tell me?! It's been a couple months and you couldn't be bothered to tell me?! I cannot believe you!"

"Are you really so surprised?" he shot back, also rising and then striking the counter with his fist. "It was bound to happen to him and you know it!"

"You stubborn fool! You'll never understand! You haven't changed one bit in these years!"

"And you're always sticking up for him! He was never any good; he betrayed us!"

"Shut up, Zack! Shut up! Do not say that to me!" Her hand trembled as though she wanted to physically lash out at him, but she stayed the motion by clutching both hands behind her back. "Get out of here before I slap those stupid, asinine ideas from your head!"

"Do not worry, I shall! And I'll not be returning!"

Their shouts escalated with each sentence, reaching a level that more than garnered the attention of the early patrons to the tavern. The rest of the room was almost deathly silent as everyone else stared with some trepidation at the yelling match; no one wanted to get himself killed by stepping between the enraged proprietress and equally maddened knight. The taller redhead stalked from the barroom, sending the swinging door so hard against the wall that nearly everyone jumped and the chandelier swayed and jangled dangerously. The silence following this was so bitterly palpable that a few nervous customers sneaked out rather than risk angering Rouge still further merely by being present.

"Stupid, stupid, stubborn blockhead!" she fumed, utterly ignoring her patrons for the time being, much to their relief.

~O~

Obediently, Barnham appeared at the entrance to the bakery exactly five minutes and eleven seconds later, holding a bag not even half filled with a few meager possessions, and a mixed expression of confusion and perturbation crossing his features. Constantine was at his heels, making bewildered "Ruff, ruff?" noises and lolling his tongue. He lifted his noise to the air and lolled his tongue as the delectable smells reached him.

"Hello, Sir Barnham!" called a cheery voice, belonging to a girl who was currently engaged in dicing carrots.

"Ah, you're here. I'm glad you decided to follow my advice," the baker said, hinting a bit darkly at what might have happened if he hadn't. "If you wouldn't mind, help Espella with those carrots. I'm always afraid that child will cut a finger one of these days!"

The young woman groaned, "Oh, Aunt Patty! You know I'm always very careful."

"It would relieve me all the same. If you would, Zacharias? You don't mind if I just call you by your first name, do you? I can't keep addressing you so formally when you're working here."

"Y-yes, of course, Mrs. Eclaire," replied he, too stupefied to make any other reply.

Espella giggled as she surrendered the chopping board. "You'll get used to her," she whispered and then quickly busied herself with the equally "dangerous" task of grating the dark green zucchini. "Aunt Patty, does zucchini taste good in bread?"

"Why, of course it does! My mother used to zucchini bread all the time and everyone loved it. I remember her recipe perfectly."

"I'm sure it will turn out a lot better than my fish bread did. That is one thing I am never going to try again; it smelled really awful, too!"

"Tomorrow we'll have a special on fresh zucchini bread," the baker decided, smiling fondly, remembering long past days when she was young and her mama was alive.

"Can we save some for Dad and Eve? I'm sure they'd be glad to try it out!"

"Certainly, child. With everything else going on I'd almost forgotten about your plans to bring your father over here. He's feeling a lot better, isn't he?"

The blonde girl nodded happily as she tossed a zucchini stem into the waste pail and started on another whole one. "Yes. Eve and I have made sure that he didn't disobey the doctor's orders to rest when we got back. Tomorrow will be the first time that we'll let him go someplace, since the boat ride of course."

The elder woman chuckled dryly. "No doubt he's tired of being cooped up and bossed around by two young girls."

"Hee hee. Oh, he complains all the time but I think he secretly enjoys being fussed over."

Barnham completed his task at a slower rate than Espella had been going at it, but in all actuality she had made it much easier for him because she'd already cut up most of those bright orange vegetables. He put all the slices in the nearby bowl, without noticing that one of the pieces rolled to the floor, and wondered how in blazes he was going to let the ladies know he was finished without interrupting their unending string of conversation. He opened his mouth a couple of times when he thought he saw a chance to slip in a few quick words, but they unintentionally cut him off before he could quite manage. Thus he stood, feeling inane and helpless; he looked to Constantine and shrugged slightly as if to say, "What is there for me to do?"

And then Patty glanced up from the dough that was nearly up to her elbows. "Oh, Zacharias, would you bring those carrots over here?"

He obeyed swiftly but in his hurry his sword bumped one of the partially filled water jugs and sent it to the floor. "I am sorry. So clumsy…" he muttered.

"No, no, don't worry. It happens all the time," Patty assured him. "Espella, hurry and get the rushes to soak it up."

The blonde girl was already on her way to the back. She returned with an armful of halfway dried rushes which she and the baker used to insulate supplies in the pantry. She tossed them to the floor, scattered them around over the spillage and then returned to her task.

"I-I should be going now," the red-faced, redheaded knight said. "I think I've done enough."

He tried to back out of the entrance without knocked anything else over, but he came to a complete standstill when Patty fixed him with much too stern a look for her kindly face. "And where do you think you're going? Are you, the captain of the knights, going to leave us two ladies when we are in need of help?"

Barnham stared at her. "Erm… N-no, ma'am."

"Well then, I need you to take the bread out of the oven. Hurry now or it will be burned!"

As he rushed forward, Espella pressed two thick mitts into his hands. "Here," she said, giving him a bright grin. "Don't forget these."

A little while later, as the dinner hour was swiftly descending upon them, Espella stirred a pot of stew over the stove and threw in pinches of seasonings here and there, while Patty was almost simultaneously checking the rolls in the oven, helping a late-calling customer with her order, and trying to instruct a none-too-domestic knight in the processes of preparing dough. With the customer gone, she hastened to the oven once more and pulled therefrom a batch of perfect, golden-brown rolls that made every breathing being within that small space drool just a little.

Someone else approached and made a pleasant silhouette in the darkened entryway. "Espella, have you se— What in the name of…?!"

The blonde girl's head popped up and she waved her free hand while still holding a bit of thyme between thumb and forefinger. "Hello, Eve! Do you want to have dinner with…us…? What's the matter?"

The former high inquisitor moved a few steps further into the bakery, her previously thoroughly annoyed expression intermixed with a sudden sprinkling of mirth. Here was that bold knight, in full armor, save the sword and gauntlets he'd set aside, losing the battle with a very large lump of dough previously prepared by the baker. She covered her mouth quickly and cleared her throat.

"I've been searching every place for you, Barnham! What are you doing here?"

"I am making bread," he replied shortly as he repeatedly pounded the lump with predictable force, causing the nearby rolling pin to jump each time.

"That I can see." I almost pity that unfortunate dough, to be at his mercy and so mangled. It is as if he is angry with it… Shaking her head slightly, she recalled that Espella had given her greeting. She cast one more look with half disguised smile toward the knight, and drew nearer the stove. "Hello, Espella." The dark-haired woman gave her friend a genuine smile.

"I'm so glad you came, Eve! Won't you stay with us for dinner?"

"Hmm…" the elder girl murmured. She leaned over the large pot and inhaled deeply the scent of the stew. "If the taste is as favorable as its aroma, it should be quite decent. You know, Espella, all those spices and herbs killed the taste of the soup you prepared last week."

"I know, I know. I've learned a lot from my failures. Aunt Patty says that a good baker tastes as she experiments, so I'm trying to keep that in mind. So, will you stay?"

"Are you sure there will be enough to go around?"

"Hee hee! Do you need to ask? Aunt Patty and I always make more than we need, just so we can invite you."

The baker waved a dishcloth in front of her face, flushed with the heat in the room that did not completely dissipate through the open end. "It's more a matter of your eyes being bigger than your stomach, Espella. What's more important though, is that none of it goes to waste."

"Anyway, I'll set a place for you too, Eve. Ooh, and you won't forget about tomorrow, right? You promised you'd come."

"Of course I remember. You haven't let me forget it," the other young woman replied, crossing her arms and yet not uttering protest about remaining for dinner.

"You didn't tell us what brought you here. Oh, I know! It was probably about…" the younger girl paused her stirring for effect. "…the tourist project, right?"

"I don't think it takes much guesswork to figure that one out," Eve replied as she dipped a spoon into the simmering contents of the pot and withdrew a slice of carrot.

Espella giggled. "All I had to do was look into my crystal stew pot."

She gave her blonde friend a look. "I spoke with your father and we had a few ideas regarding the selection of the tourists we'll allow here, if all goes as planned. However, the evening is waning and I don't wish to spoil your dinner with those trifling details." I believe Barnham will be little good for discussing ideas with the foul mood he's in, though he'd surely try to convince me otherwise.

"I hope Dad was being good and not giving you any trouble."

"That depends on your definition of 'good'. He was in his robe, wandering around in front of the windows. I am relieved he is so far on the mend, for I grow weary of forcing him to follow doctor's orders."

"Ah, Dad… I think he's just a little lonely. And he always wants to be busy doing something, giving orders and all that."

Having let the bit of carrot cool slightly, Eve tested it with one finger and slipped it into her mouth. Espella's pet cat suddenly appeared and wound herself around the former high inquisitor's ankles. With a quick look to see that no one was watching her at the moment, she stooped and allowed cat-Eve to lick the broth left on her spoon.

Meanwhile, the younger girl bustled around the room, weaving around Patty, Barnham and her friend on her way to and from the table. "How do you like it?" she queried expectantly.

"I would not be stretching the truth if I said it is the best soup you've made thus far."

"Ah ha ha! You're too kind, Eve."

Some few minutes later found the somewhat odd foursome seated at a table crowded with such foods that were not only pretty to look at, but also a delight to sniff and most pleasant to the tongue. They all ate heartily and Espella chattered less during the meal, occasionally leaning ever so slightly under the table to drop a tidbit for her cat. She knew it was not the best manners to do it, but she could not resist spoiling her pet. She had a suspicion, though, that there was another animal under the table, and sure enough, the little white dog also jumped for the delicious, sometimes meaty morsels.

Eve noticed once more that Barnham's spirits appeared as if under a rain cloud. She wondered if it had anything to do with the reason that the knight was in the bakery in the first place and she resolved to ask her friend about it later. She had been anticipating explaining her ideas to him but, her plans being spoiled, her own mood began to worsen, though she didn't quite realize the reason.

However, before she sank too far Espella rescued her by gently, cheerily and without malice coercing her friend into helping with the cleanup. They conversed quietly between themselves while Eve lent her hands to the task by drying the dishes. Meanwhile, Patty stored the leftovers and put everything back in its place between instructions to the new apprentice baker on the creation of fine dough.

"Aunt Patty, do you mind if I leave for a while to see Dad? I shouldn't be gone much more than an hour," the blonde girl said when all was put away.

"Certainly not, dear. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. Is Eve going with you?"

"Yes, Aunt Patty. Don't worry about me. We'll be fine."

With a wave, the blonde young woman quit the bakery with her best friend and shadowed by a black cat. The sky was dark and sprinkled with the usual merry stars; the streets of Labyrinthia were similarly peppered with lamps that hung at door frames and near shop signs, and painted with the occasional bloom of light that emanated from open shutters and cracked doors. Fewer people were out on the streets at that hour, but there were some who were working late or partying early. The young women passed the expensive shops and witnessed Bardly attempting to entertain the fast dwindling number of patrons.

"I've been wondering, Espella…" Eve ventured at last when she was sure no one would overhear them. "Just why is Barnham at the bakery, of all places?"

Her blonde friend tilted her head. "I think Aunt Patty is going to try to teach him to bake." Lowering her voice to a mere whisper, even though they couldn't be overheard, she added, "I think she's already adopted him. Hee hee!"

"Even so, I do not understand how this all came about."

"Well, I don't know why, but Sir Barnham was pretty upset about something and Aunt Patty just brought him to the bakery. And he's been sleeping in the dungeon because he gave up his quarters."

"Yes, he told me it was simply a temporary arrangement before he found a new room. Now it seems that he has…"

"Oh yes, Aunt Patty was quite insistent on that matter. She wouldn't let him leave." Espella giggled. "It will be fun having someone else at the bakery again. Even though Mr. Wright and Maya were there such a short time, I missed them so much when they left. He'll be a great help to Aunt Patty, at least when he learns how to bake."

Eve chuckled once as she recalled having observed a round, thoroughly blackened object thrown into the rubbish bin, a failure she surmised could only have been intended to be a loaf of bread. "Mrs. Eclaire had best be well fortified with patience," said she as they approached the guarded gate.

~O~

The next morning, as the earliest birds were stretching their wings for the first time that morning, one of the feathered creatures lighted on the windowsill of an attic room. Forthwith, it opened its diminutive beak and chirped what seemed a cheery greeting to the blonde girl within the room as she slipped her dress over her head.

"Hello, little bird," she whispered, approaching the window. "This is a beautiful morning, is it not?"

She giggled as she began to plait her hair. The little bluebird cocked its head, fluffed its creamy chest and sang another few notes.

Espella put her finger to her lips. "Shh. Not too loud. Aunt Patty is still sleeping!"

With her cat at her heels and a candle in her hand, she pussy-footed her way through the dark hall, attempting to avoid the boards that creaked worst; in passing the room that the baker had assigned to Barnham, she noticed immediately that the door was open, leaving her to glimpse the pale glow of pre-dawn from the window. No noise came from within.

"Sir Barnham?" she whispered, nearing the door.

She poked her head in and extended the candlestick. The bed was rumpled but both knight and dog were conspicuous by their absence. She shook her head, briefly hoping that the new apprentice baker hadn't flown the proverbial coop.

The young woman pattered down the stairs, poured a saucerful of milk for her pet, inserted fuel into the oven and lit it, and then uncovered the dough left to sit overnight. With the skill afforded her by working in the bakery for five years and counting, she floured the counter, wrestled with the large, plump lump and formed it into the first loaves of the day. As the cat cleaned herself meticulously, Espella checked the oven's temperature and when she judged it ready, she slipped therein five long pieces of dough.

"Today is going to be especially busy, Eve," she said as she quickly calculated and put two more small logs into the flames. "I wish to make everything perfect for this evening when Dad comes. We'll have that plump chicken that Aunt Patty got yesterday, scalloped potatoes, those wonderful gravied peaches, some of Aunt Patty's zucchini bread, green beans, and those buns that Dad liked so much the last time. I'll go out and pick flowers for the table—perhaps Eve would like to help with that—and you have to be on your best behavior." She looked upon her pet and shook her finger. "No jumping onto the table this time!"

Cat-Eve meowed and rubbed against the girl's ankle, which was bare as she only wore slippers.

"Aunt Patty promised that she would help me with the preparations. Oh, I just hope everything…"

She lifted her head quite suddenly as someone ducked under the bakery's entrance. For the first half second she wondered who on earth would not only be awake so early but would also be coming for bread that was yet to be baked. Then, by the flickering lights of the torches she'd kindled she glimpsed the red hair and sun-browned face of the former inquisitor. Constantine continued with his bounding little leaps into the room, but his master stopped just inside the entryway.

"Good morning, Sir Barnham," Espella greeted him cheerily.

"Miss Cantabella…" he said, and some seconds after the girl could have sworn he muttered something like "…apologize again…."

"It's nice to know that someone else wakes early too. And here I was thinking it would just be me and Eve."

She gestured to the black feline, who sat primly on a stool licking her paws and paying no attention to the white dog who watched her just a bit distrustfully. The girl turned her gaze back to the knight who still stood, as if he'd rooted to the spot, squeezing first one fist and then the other and his own eyes rising no further than the floor. Concerned that something was amiss she brushed off her hands and drew closer, noticing how weariness shone through his features and his whole manner, despite his best efforts to conceal it.

"Sir Barnham?"

Without warning, he blurted suddenly, "I am deeply sorry."

"Why, what for?" she returned, the bewilderment apparent in both tone and face. She couldn't tell if he was actually looking downward or if his eyes were closed, which only added to his tired appearance.

"I…I tried to send you to the flames. I thought you were a witch. I am—I was an inquisitor and it was my job to ensure that justice was done, yet I was blind to the truth."

"Oh, yes…that."

Beneath the slightly moth-eaten shawl wrapped around her and the apron which covered it, Espella shivered, only in part due to the early morning air. She drew her arms closer about herself. What do I say to him? Is this why he was so upset yesterday? Those dreadful witch trials… When will we no longer be haunted by them?! She struggled silently with her own thoughts and emotions without realizing Barnham's state of extreme agitation at her lack of response.

"I had best be on my way. I thank you and Mistress Eclaire for your kindness," he murmured dejectedly, turning to the barely born morning.

"Wait, don't go."

He stopped, his face mostly obscured, with only one eye visible to her in the lamplight as he turned his head only slightly. Espella drew still nearer and tentatively extended one hand toward his arm, as if to compel him to come further into the bakery, but stopped before she made contact.

"You do not wish me to leave?"

"Of course not," she replied, tucking her hand back under her shawl and gazing into his eyes. "I am not angry with you. I…" She paused as the many thoughts within her mind all tried to flock to her tongue. "I know that you were merely fulfilling your job and it was not your fault… I am only glad that those trials are no more."

"'Tis that which haunts me so. I did not try as I should have to discern the truth. I failed…"

"Oh, I don't know. You seemed to be doing pretty well near the end when you found out what Eve was up to. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. After all, we're living without the illusions now and the only way to move is forward. "And…" she added, drawing her lips again into a slight smile. "You don't want to make Aunt Patty mad, do you? She's not the sort of person on whose bad side you want to be."

His gaze was still downcast as he replied, "No… I suppose not."

"Come on, then. I'll show you how the morning routine works. I'm sure Aunt Patty will be down soon enough."

He really hadn't any choice. He donned the apron she proffered him and followed Espella's instructions as she helped him with the next batch of bread. By the time the stout baker descended the stairs, more than half of the newest loaves were charred on the outside and doughy mush on the inside. The blonde girl sighed; teaching the knight to bake was going to take all the patience both she and the elder woman could muster.

Fortunately for the bread, the bakers, and Barnham, he left about midmorning for his duties at the garrison and a conference with Eve and the construction crew. Patty shook her head as she viewed the sad lumps that he probably thought would pass for bread.

"When you return I'll have more work for you, so don't you stay away too long," she said, her mouth set determinedly in what was not quite a frown.

As the knight hurried to the doorway and Constantine bounded after him, Espella called out, "Aren't you forgetting something, Sir Barnham?"

He turned back, clueless as to what she meant. "What?"

The girl tried her best to hide her amused smile as she gestured to the be-floured apron which still hung, rather ungainly, over his shoulders. "You're not going out in that, are you?"

With a scowl, he yanked it over his head and cast it to the nearby table. Constantine yipped and circled his master's feet as the knight ducked under the bakery entrance and quickly disappeared up the street amongst the many citizens.

Espella's day was filled with much baking and busy preparations for the special dinner that night. As soon as she tasted the zucchini bread she was quite adamant that both her friend and father should also have some; she was so nervous and scatterbrained that she almost burned a large batch of buns. Later than afternoon, when Eve dropped by after finishing with her duties, the two of them went outside the walls and gathered armfuls of the many colored wildflowers that grew so extensively over the countryside. On their return they passed through the marketplace, where the younger girl selected a generous dozen of the best peaches.

When all was considered satisfactory under Espella's careful eye, both young women brought Cantabella from the room to which he'd forcibly been confined for the past few weeks.

"You two treat me as though I am an invalid," the Storyteller protested. "I am neither as old nor as sickly as you make me out to be."

"Oh Dad, we only want to be sure you rest enough after your operation. You are too important to us and we don't want you to come down with any more illnesses."

"Hmph," was all the gentleman replied, for he could not bear to more sharply dissuade his daughter's tender worries, despite their inconvenience to him.

"You worry about him too much, Espella," her best friend said.

The blonde girl murmured under her breath, "The pot calls the kettle black."

Meanwhile, Eve-the-cat seemed intent on circling them, especially the young woman who bore the same name. Several times Eve was forced to break the evenness of her gait to avoid stepping on or tripping over the feline.

"I do wish you'd keep your cat from getting tangled in my legs," the former high inquisitor grumbled. "It's not like she can't walk alongside us like a normal person."

"Oh, but she likes you," Espella giggled.

Eve muttered darkly, "Such fondness I can do without."

Upon their arrival at the bakery Patty came out to greet them. "Welcome, Sir Storyteller."

Cantabella bowed slightly. So as to feel on a friendlier basis with the townspeople, he was attired in the sort of simpler clothes that he wore before he began his role as the creator. "It is an honor, Mistress Eclaire."

She beamed and Espella could swear she saw a tinge of pink coming to the elder woman's cheeks. "I saw you coming and I've just set everything on the table. Come, sit down and we'll begin."

Further inside the room, Barnham waged battle with another lump of dough while Constantine was uncharacteristically quiet and he sat near the stove. When the knight noted that their visitor had arrived, he brushed his be-floured hands on the apron he wore, removed said item, and strode to his superior to give the salute due him. The Storyteller showed no surprise at seeing a new face at the bakery; the redhead needed no time to figure out why.

Dinner was a cozy affair, with strong candlelight, excellent food and Espella chattering to everyone. Her father seemed to warm up after a while and he participated more in the conversation. Patty was at her best as she described methods of baking, the ups and downs of the business, and a leak in the back of the roof that needed attention. Being quieter than the others did not mean Eve enjoyed the meal less; she found her pleasure in listening to everyone else. When the baker mentioned the roof, the former high inquisitor immediately assured the elder woman that she would see to its repair as she fixed her gaze on Barnham. The knight himself was a bit on edge to be dining with not one, but two superiors, even though Eve was technically no longer a superior but more of a co-worker. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he was also embarrassed over his new, if part-time, job, though part of that was likely because as an apprentice baker his skills were lacking.

Espella asked eagerly, "Do you like the zucchini bread, Dad?"

"I do," replied he, deftly wiping a few crumbs that had been trapped in his facial hair. "Mrs. Eclaire, this is surely the best zucchini bread I've ever tasted. Have you been making it these years here at the bakery?"

"I only remembered it recently," she said. "It was my mother's special recipe, which she taught me when I eight years old. The last time I made it was for my wedding feast."

"You were married, Aunt Patty?"

"Of course I was, child. Why else would I be called 'missus'?"

"Oh, yes… I guess I've always assumed it but never thought it through," the blonde girl chattered. "Uhm… Aunt Patty? Were you very happy?"

That lady's face softened until it was like some of her best dough. "Yes, we were happy enough. We had no children, however." She gazed fondly over Espella, who was as much a daughter to her as any child of her own.

Silence followed afterward, as each of them digested the information as they picked away at their dinner. The Storyteller lifted another slice of peach to his mouth and pretended that he was hearing the baker's background for the first time. Eve and Espella glanced at each other soberly, with thoughts of their own parents filling their minds.

"Mrs. Eclaire, if I may ask…" Barnham began, his gaze rising from the bread that he absently tore to pieces over his plate.

Patty nodded slightly.

"…What happened to him?"

She closed her eyes for a second. "He died, dear boy."

His expression largely unreadable, the knight lowered is gaze again and concentrated on his plate, crushing what was left of the bread in his hand.

"Oh, Aunt Patty!" Espella breathed, compassionate tears filling her eyes. "I never knew!"

"Bless your heart, child, you've had enough grief of your own to be burdened with mine."

She leaned over and patted the girl's hand that rested near her fork, while under the table Eve firmly gripped the other five fingers. Espella tried to disguise a sniffle in her napkin.

"What was he like?" she asked, nearly in a whisper.

The baker smiled slightly, a fond look tinged with sadness coming to her eyes. "He was a good man. He never put things back where they belonged and many's the time he'd wake me with his cold feet and snores in the middle of the night, but I'd still take those now if I could. He provided for me and never once complained about how often our kitchen looked like this bakery." She chuckled, "You see, even then I was dabbling in this line of work."

Eve gave her friend's hand another press and inquired with as much gentle tact as she could muster, "What was his name, Mrs. Eclaire?"

"George," she replied, taking a deep, almost shaky breath. A single tear slipped from her eye and trickled down on the left side of her nose. "If only I had kept him at home for just a few minutes longer…the accident might never have happened…"

Espella's chair scraped the floor as she quickly stood up and leaned over the baker with a hug. "Don't say any more, Aunt Patty."

That lady patted the young arm thrown around her neck. "No, it's all right, dear child. I want you to know. My husband died in the hospital nearly eight years ago and I ran away. I wanted to forget and so I eventually joined Project Labyrinthia. I was a coward for trying to hide from my grief… Even as foolish as I've been, I was blessed with this bakery, friends, and a fine young girl in need of a mother…begging your pardon, Sir Storyteller."

"Not at all," replied he, gruffly, his expression stern and his eyes on his daughter. "It was something I sadly could not provide and I am grateful Espella found a home with as fine a lady as you."

The girl still wept tears for an uncle she'd never know, and for the aunt who had borne such sorrow.

"There, there, dear. It's all right," the elder woman soothed her.

"But it's so-o s-sad! Oh, Aunt Patty…!" she whimpered.

She lifted her head to look at her father, who appeared to her to be as sad as she felt. She once more hugged the baker and moved to the white-haired gentleman who sat at the other end of the table. He pulled her close.

"Espella, please don't cry," he murmured so that only she could hear. "You make my heart ache to see you sad."

She clung to him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know I'm being terribly silly and feminine, but I can't help it." She inhaled deeply and managed a watery sort of smile as he gave her his handkerchief.

The girl realized that no one was eating any more and she blushed, knowing that she'd caused a scene. She scurried back to her seat, still clutching the hanky. Patty insisted that they speak of something less depressing; the talk turned to a subject much discussed over the whole town, the tourist project, and they finished their meal.

As a result of tender mood, the elder woman relented as she not often did and bent to give scraps to both cat and dog. Espella noticed this and added a dollop of peaches for cat-Eve and a bone for Constantine. While the blonde girl lent her aid to the cleanup process, Eve crouched and gave the feline a few strokes when she was sure her friend was not looking. The knight was at the bakery entrance, staring out to the darkened street and trying to resist the idea that he should start with the preparation of dough for the morrow when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Cantabella lowered his voice to what seemed a conspirational whisper. "Barnham, wait a moment."

"Sir Storyteller?"

He wondered what in the name of Patty's best bread what was so urgent; he automatically stiffened for whatever bad news he'd hear. His superior fixed him with his sternest glare, the kind that he used when he caught a knight being lax in his duties or when someone threw a monkey wrench into the parade; Barnham gulped in spite of himself. He hoped it wasn't about the squash patch upon which Constantine had wrought havoc when the little dog tried to catch some runaway chickens.

"I do not know why you felt the need to train at such an early hour, but will you please not mention that you saw me at the time, especially to Espella and Eve."

"O-of course not, sir," stammered a very bemused knight.

The elder gentleman's expression devolved into something that could only be described as sheepish. "Those two have been merciless in my recovery. They compel me to retire at an early hour and have not let me outdoors until today. If they knew I sneaked out this morning they would never let me hear the end of it."

"I understand, Sir Story—Mr. Cantabella."

"Good, then it's just between us men." He sighed. "Soon enough they'll both be herding me off to bed again."

He retreated to the table once more, attempting to hide his amused little smile in his mustache before the eagle eyes of either young woman spotted it. Once more, the redhead groaned inwardly and bolstered enough courage to have another go at the bread. As he reached the large counter, Eve sprang up and fixed him with a scathing glare that dared him to make mention of her fondling the cat.

"What were you and Mr. Cantabella whispering about over there?" she demanded, as a diversionary tactic.

"A small matter. Nothing of import."

She grinned in a cunning, yet rather beguiling manner that reminded him very much of a cat. "He wanted you to mention naught of his excursion at dawn, isn't that right?"

Barnham dropped the rolling pin on his foot. "W-What…?!" He felt his face heat and cursed himself under his breath.

"Your expression betrays you," she said, gesturing with slender finger.

He wished he was wearing his helmet.

"You should at least keep the noise down if you wish to go unnoticed; you'll hear complaints if you continue with such an early morning workout. And perhaps you'd better get yourself a real partner, as I'm sure that dummy will never be usable again."

A crack in the floor would have been a nice place for the knight to hide at that moment. Oh, if he were anywhere else but the bakery, even if it be the fire pit! He loathed himself for being so upset that he'd not slept well, for unleashing his anger on a stupid straw man at an indecent hour, and for feeling so helpless in the unwavering gaze of those turquoise eyes.

"I expect that is the reason your work has been rather slipshod today?" Her expression softened only slightly. "You'd best be off to bed soon then. We've a busy day tomorrow since a certain knight promised to repair Rouge's roof."

The young woman turned on her heel and joined her friend and the baker, leaving in her wake a knight who made the new batch of dough smart as much as his pride. He was still at it when Espella and Eve pulled the Storyteller away; Barnham hardly looked up as the threesome left.

~O~

Just a couple of afternoons later, Cantabella dropped by the bakery again and it seemed he was slowly being allowed more freedom. Eve accompanied him, as they'd been discussing some plans and wished to speak with the knight captain. However, as so often happened when they visited the bakery, Patty inadvertently caused them reconsider their reasons for coming.

"Hello, Dad!" Espella called cheerily as she set down her measuring cup.

Patty bustled over to her. "That's enough for now, dear. Zacharias and I look after the bread. You go sit next to your father and keep him and Eve company."

"But, Aunt Patty! I want to help."

"Go on now!" she scolded lightly, shooing the young woman with her hands.

Espella pouted but did as she was told. She beamed at her best friend and neither was sorry when she interrupted the conversation about repairs and construction, and making the town ready for tourists.

"Eve, did you tell Dad how beautiful your house is looking now?"

"No. The matter never came up."

"Oh, it looks lovely, Dad!" Espella gestured to a small vase of bright blooms which remained from those they'd had at the dinner table previously. "The other day we went together to gather these flowers and stopped briefly at her house, where we said hello to the former shades working there, but Eve wouldn't let me go in." She looked at her friend and stuck out her bottom lip. "I did so want to see what it looks like!"

"You said yourself that we were in too much of a hurry for distractions," Eve replied dryly.

"I too would enjoy seeing what progress you've made," the Storyteller said, with his meaningful look passing between the two girls. "Perhaps one day soon you will indulge an aging man's whims and show both of us."

The smile of the dark-haired young woman was slight, yet it reached her eyes. "Of course."

Meanwhile, Barnham slipped his hands into the thick mitts and checked the readiness of what Patty decreed as "practice buns", which were just turning brown in the oven. He thought they were well done, but the baker, hovering over his shoulder, shook her head.

"Not yet," declared she.

And so he waited, determined that these at least should not be burned to a crisp. Espella set the kettle on the stove and very nearly bumped into him as she scurried back to the kitchen carrying some milk. With an apology, she was out of his way and giving her cat a saucer of the creamy liquid. She popped up again and stretched for the mugs and teapot at the top of the cupboard, to which the red-head knight sighed and then gave her aid.

"Thank you, Sir Barnham!"

She returned to the table with her favorite little teapot and poured cups of honey tea for her friend and father. The knight pulled the small morsels from the oven and held them for Patty's inspection.

"Nicely done. This is how buns—and bread—should look when baked, Zacharias. Remember that. Now, the real test is how they taste, so you might ask our guests to sample them." She piled them carefully on an oblong platter.

"Ruff, ruff! Woof!"

As he strode toward the table carrying the plate, his dog, who felt as though his master had paid little attention to him that day and was now hoping to play, leapt up at him and the buns.

"C-Constantine!"

It just wasn't Barnham's week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha! This chapter was such fun to write!


	3. Spring Rains...

"Next time, will you and your knights make sure those hooligans don't upset our pottery? My husband and I work hard for our livelihood, you know!"

"Yes, ma'am. I am sorry about the mess, but as far as I could tell it seemed to be an accident." As Barnham mentioned that, the woman scowl grew just a bit more. "…But perhaps I could compensate you for the damage, just this one time."

A couple of feet behind him, Espella stared a hole into his back as if she could thusly keep him from reaching for his coin. She wished she had Eve's nerve and imperturbability to convince him he needn't do anything of the sort.

The potter's wife was shocked out of her ire. "Sir Barnham, that is much too generous of you! We cannot accept—"

He pressed the cold metal into her warm palm regardless.

"I told you, this is too much to ask. I cannot take this."

The knight's expression became stern. "I insist that you do."

She was nearly twenty years older than him and had children of her own, but she felt such keen admiration that she'd not known since her younger days. "Then at least take a part of it back." She slid half the coins back across the smooth wood and tucked the others into the pocket of her paint-smudged smock.

His gaze did not waver from her face for some seconds, as if he were gauging the worthiness of her words as he would ascertain the readiness of an opponent in battle. Then he slid the money back into the little pouch he carried on his person.

"In the future, on days when the tourists are here, I suggest you take more care with the placement your wares."

"Yes, yes. We will do just that," replied she, as if she hadn't already realized that course of action.

Both knight and young woman bid her a good day. He picked up the baskets which still held at least half of the day's bread deliveries, bearing two on each arm.

"Oh, Mrs. Potter?" Espella asked, turning once more. "Did the tourists take any interest in your wares?"

The lady smiled. "Why yes. They liked my painted vases." She gestured to a few of those items that rested just inches from the still warm bread. The vessels were adorned with miniature scenes painted in great detail.

"I'm glad to hear that. They are exquisite, Mrs. Potter."

"Thank you, dear child. You tell Patty hello for me and thank her for the bread, won't you?"

Espella nodded, and with a wave, relinquished herself to the street once more. She shivered as some of the slanting drizzle touched her face and she drew her own basket closer, as if to warm herself by whatever heat was left therein. She quickened her steps to match the long strides of the knight and skirted around the worst of the puddles as they headed to their next customer.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, just a little breathless. A tiny drop of rain tickled her nose as it slid down. "Why did you offer to pay for the damage?"

He hesitated, shifting the baskets on his left arm. "It was the only way to satisfy her complaints."

She would have told him she thought he was terribly kind, but after the past few months at the bakery she knew he would brush off her gushing praise as though it were a noisome flea, and he'd be downright irked if she made mention of his current state of finances. Instead, she tucked those thoughts away into a cozy corner of her brain, to be aired and ironed out when she and Eve had their spot of talk.

As they ducked under the awning of the smithy's she called out, "Bread delivery for you, Sir Blacksmith!"

They heard the man hammering away in the back, but he hollered something a couple of times; finally a wench of about fifteen stomped to the front, her face as sulky and dark as the clouds without. As soon as she glimpsed Barnham, however, her eyes brightened rather abnormally, her frown inverted itself in the blink of an eye, and she quickly brushed both her mousy brown hair and the finely tailored jacket.

"Oooh, Sir Barnham, what brings you here on such an awfully inclement day?" she purred.

"Bread delivery. The bill is two gold," replied the knight, none more oblivious than he. He fumbled awkwardly through the large baskets he held. "Miss Cantabella, do you have the order?"

"No, it's in one of your baskets. I'll find it for you. I know just where it is."

She pulled back the thick cloth covering the container and a second later held the correct bundle in her hands. Turning to the blacksmith's daughter, she proffered the package and accepted the price due. The wench pouted still further that he did not hand the order to her; she glared at Espella's back, who didn't seem to realize how fortunate she was to work with the most handsome knight of the town.

As they stepped into the street again, the blonde young woman shuddered once more, pulled her cape closer about herself and then sneezed.

"You are cold," Barnham said. He stopped short, set his burdens beneath another awning just across the street, and unclasped the fastenings of his cloak. "You must take this. It will keep you warm."

"But you'll get wet, Mr. Barnham," she protested.

He draped it over her shoulders, engulfing her completely. "It means nothing to me. What sort of knight would I be if I could not bear up under slight discomforts in the course of my duty? Anyway," he muttered last, "Mrs. Eclaire would have my head if you were to return with a chill."

He turned up the collar of his jacket and hoisted his burdens once more, while Espella pulled the dark green material closer about herself; she already felt warmer under its thick folds. Patty had bugged her about getting a new cape for the chilly months and she now wished she'd heeded that advice. Meanwhile, across the street a red-faced girl glared at her with such venom that even a cobra would have been jealous.

"Thank you, Sir Barnham. This is most kind of you," the young woman said. "I'm afraid I'm going to get it dirty, though. You're much taller than me." She glanced down the hem of the garment, which covered her feet and dragged on the cobblestones.

"It matters not," replied he with careless shrug.

All the same, she pulled his cloak over her own hood, surprising herself with how heavy it was. The thick green fabric only touched the street; at least now she would be less likely to snare her feet in it. She hurried to catch up with the knight, who charged through the cold drizzle and puddles as he was on a training regimen. It was just as well that both Constantine and Eve the cat had remained at the bakery.

Most of their deliveries were in the central parts of town, but near the end of their route, with the contents of just one basket left, they were required to traverse the forest path to the marketplace. The steady dripping from the trees and the darker atmosphere caused Espella to shiver in her warm little cocoon under the cloak. Oh, how glad she was that someone else was with her!

They stopped at Jean's place, but she was busy with her studies and her mother received the order. Leaving her, they visited other homes in that area, trying to stay under the trees and away from the dripping roofs as much as possible. As dreary and unfriendly as the weather was, a few stalls were set up under dripping awnings, the proprietors thereof huddled where at least they would not get wet, but almost no one else was braving the chill and damp that day.

The last delivery was to a small house that rang with the howls and wails of children who were all required to remain indoors for the time being. However, they brightened up considerably when they saw Espella and especially Barnham. The boys were all but devastated that he had not worn his armor and was not carrying his sword; they were ready to start bickering again when their mother gave them all some bread and sent them to another room to eat while their mother settled the bill. Had the children still been present, they surely would have begun squabbling again as their visitors left.

Out on the street again, Barnham did not comment on the blonde girl's reduction on the price for the baked goods; he was gradually learning how secretly benevolent Patty and Espella could be. If only he'd known that before, when they were all still caught up in the illusion of magic. She had forgiven him though, but he fought to forgive himself for such a huge error.

"Oh, hello, Miss Kira," the blonde young woman said by way of greeting to the citizen who approached them. "Are you selling your flowers today?"

The flower seller wore a dark cloak at least one size too big, which covered her bonnet, half of her face, and her basket, and which drooped to the ground in a manner similar to the material Espella wore. Her shoes, hardly visible, were soaked to the soles and despite the wool socks she wore, her feet had ceased feeling anything less than frozen half an hour before. She pushed the hood from her visage but a little and through slightly fogged spectacles fixed both girl and her knightly companion in a disdainful glare.

She gave a tight little laugh completely void of mirth. "Well, I'm not out in this miserable weather for my health, you know. My boss is a real slave driver. No matter how hard I try it's never enough for him."

Barnham said nothing. With the rain dripping from his hair and his own darkly glowering expression focused solely on the flower vender, he wished they were back at the bakery already. Perhaps Espella noticed this tension, which seemed even more so due to their surroundings. She jostled his elbow with her basket as she took a couple of steps forward, which, inadvertent or not, bumped some sense into the knight.

"Hmph…" he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Miss Kira." He nodded in her direction, his expression not lessening in the slightest.

The young vendor silently returned his glare.

"I haven't seen you in some time," Espella chattered, never daunted. "Have you been keeping busy with trade from the tourists?"

"No," the other young woman replied shortly. "I do not like tourists. Most of them are rich and loud and overbearing. I despise them." She made a move like she was going to slip past them.

The blonde girl's smile dimmed slightly. "Oh. I would have thought your flowers would sell pretty well to the tourists. Uhm, do you mind if I take a look at them now?"

"Okay, fine." Kira moved into a doorway and pulled back her cape enough to reveal her wicker of blooms. "Do be quick about it though. My rounds won't go on themselves."

The blonde girl smiled and nodded as she stepped into that little bit of shelter for a closer look at the flowers. "In winter I hardly see any flowers. How is it that you have so many pretty ones here?"

"That?" The vendor's expression relaxed into something that was not quite a smile. "Simple. My boss has one of those contraptions, a…a… A greenshed? It's always warm in there and the flowers grow nicely except when the sun doesn't shine, like today. When that happens my boss worries about them and gets in such a bad temper that he scolds me for not selling enough flowers. He's so unfair!" Her face once again twisted downward in a scowl.

"Aunt Patty would love some of these! Ooh, and we should get some for Eve…except I haven't any money," Espella murmured, feeling her purse. "Only what we gathered for the bread, and I can't spend that." She paused and turned to her frowning delivery companion. "Sir Barnham, do you think I could borrow some from you? I'll pay you back as soon as we get home."

He was only too glad to get a respite, however brief, from the incessant rain that plastered the hair to his head, dripped down the back of his neck and caused him to shiver when it was most inconvenient. "As you wish," he said, pulling out his pouch and giving her the desired coin.

"Thank you," she said, her bright smile was a light on a face darkened by the shadow of her borrowed cloak. She selected two bouquets of the blooms and tucked them into her own nearly empty basket. "Wait, what are those?" she queried, brushing her fingers on a small white flower with five rounded petals and green centers.

"Oh, those? They're just some little flowers I found growing in clusters against the big wall. They are rather sweet, aren't they?"

The moisture that prickled at Espella's eyes couldn't have been from the rain as her face was shielded by the green material. "I must get some of these too," she breathed quietly. "My mother loved these flowers… She always told me these are the first sign of spring." She placed these latest blooms tenderly into her wicker and withdrew three round rolls therefrom. "These are for you, Miss Kira. I do hope you enjoy them."

"Oh, um, thanks…I guess…"

The flower girl watched and sighed as they hastened down the street. They were finished with their deliveries and nothing could hold them back from returning to a warm bakery, yet she had a great many more stops to make and would have to endure more hours of slipping through puddling streets and soaked grass. The life of a flower seller was certainly one of hardship…

"Zacharias! Why, you're absolutely soaked!" fussed the plump baker as soon as her two goslings returned to her domain. "Why did you not come back for something warmer to wear?!"

"'Tis nothing," he protested. "The cold means naught to me." With those words, he shivered.

She had to stand on the very tips of her toes to reach his forehead. Her brows drew into furrows as she said, "You are chilled, Zacharias." She snatched the baskets from his hands. "You had better go and put some dry clothes on!"

He opened his mouth.

"No arguments. Upstairs with you!"

On his way to the rear door, he passed Eve, who stood warming her hands over the stove. She cast her unwavering eyes toward him in what seemed a somewhat scornful glance. She meant to give him a commiserative look, though it didn't turn out as she expected, as she had also been subject to Patty's cluckings when she'd entered the bakery not ten minutes before. As he mounted the steps with Constantine bounding ahead of him, he wondered: did the cold make her eyes seem bluer or was he imagining it?

Espella divested herself of the two cloaks, hanging them rather hurriedly on their hooks near the fire and shaking her head as she noted the mud splattered over both, especially on that of the green material. She would have to wash them both when warmer weather came. Still clinging to her basket, she stepped toward the counter and began removing the contents. First, she removed the pouch of money they'd collected, placed it near a mess of flour at which Patty worked, and explained the bills both settled and unsettled. As she did, she also removed the blooms.

"These are for you, Aunt Patty, and for you Eve," she said, extending to them the little bouquets that she'd formed. "Mr. Barnham was kind enough to buy them for me."

"Did he now?" the smiling baker mused, accepting her little bunch with hands speckled white. "Well I must say, that was a very sweet thought."

Eve held back, her face a mix of perplexity and stifled aggravation as she stared at her friend and the flowers as if she did not comprehend. Espella finally had to step forward and put them into her hands.

"You do like them, do you not?" the younger girl asked, her own smile fading slightly.

The former inquisitor set her troubled eyes on her best friend and struggled to contain herself again. Before she could quite form the words she wanted, they heard the sound of booted feet thumping down the stairs again. Seconds later, a drier, warmer knight appeared, his hair leaping in all directions after being quickly toweled.

"There you are, Zacharias," Patty said, facing him briefly to make sure he'd followed her directions. "My, you are a thoughtful young man."

His expression concentrated into something of complete confusion.

Espella also colored. "Oh, Aunt Patty…" she muttered, wondering how she could best explain it all.

Not to be outdone, Eve said stiffly, "My thanks to you as well, Zacharias." She pursed her lips and clenched her hand. "Barnham, I m-meant!"

He couldn't have been more confused than a dog suddenly placed in the middle of a cat convention.

"What's the matter?" questioned the baker. She had put her simple bouquet in a vase and once again applied her rolling pin to the dough. "Are you too modest to accept a little gratitude for the flowers?"

"F-flowers?" he repeated.

Eve stepped forward and all but shoved her bouquet up his nose. "Yes, flowers," she said, glaring rather darkly at him. "These flowers. Espella said you bought them, or have you forgotten that as you did our meeting today?"

His grey eyes widened and his mouth grew grim. He parted his lips but no sound came out; he pressed them together again and opened to finally make his tongue cooperate. "M-my apologies, Lady…erm, Miss Belduke. The deliveries cost us more time than I anticipated… 'Twas my blunder."

"No doubt you were dallying over the selection of these flowers!" Eve returned, her tongue still sharply biting. Even for all her ire she held the blooms carefully, crushing not one tiny petal.

"No, Eve! That was my doing." Espella came to the side of her friend, twining her fingers together nervously. "It… It was my idea to buy the flowers because I thought you and Aunt Patty would like them, but I didn't have the money for them. Please don't be mad, Eve? You two can talk about whatever you need now and I won't bother you a bit."

The former high inquisitor turned her eyes, no longer scathing, to her blonde friend. She sighed imperceptibly and refused to look at her bouquet. "I am not angry, Espella. It doesn't matter anyway; this abominable weather makes it impossible to finish anything of worth. The work on the courthouse is slow as a result of many leaks." She lowered her voice and drew nearer. "Oh, how I wish for spring…"

The girl brightened. "Oh, do you know what else Miss Kira had?" Espella darted back to her basket, withdrew a few of the tiny white blooms and brought them closer for inspection. Holding them in her palms, she spoke softly. "I can just remember my mum taking me out to pick these… She told me they betoken the first signs of spring… They are so sweet and delicate, yet so resilient, aren't they?"

Eve took one of the blossoms in her own hand and gazed at it without uttering a word. The purely white petals made only the slightest whisper of a touch on her scarred palm. She said hardly three syllables before she took her leave, bearing the bouquet with the greatest of care under her cloak. Arriving at her house she retreated to her kitchen, selected a small, clear glass vase and spent an hour staring at the arrangement. She too remembered a time when her father had let her accompany him into the woods; amongst the information she had promptly forgotten, he had also told her of the importance of those tiny white flowers, both as a sign of spring and for their medicinal qualities.

Espella tried many different things with those blooms. She wanted to do something special with them other than placed them in the vase with all the other flowers; she placed them loosely in a bowl of water but that proved to be almost fatal when cat-Eve upset them. After rescuing them, the girl considered taking them up to her room but rejected the idea as she would not be able to enjoy them properly throughout the day. Finally she decided to pin up her braids and tuck therein the faintly scented blossoms. She set them aside carefully at night so she could use them again the next day.

Early one afternoon just a few days later, she traversed streets as wet as they had been the preceding couple of weeks, going to her father's rooms to wish him a safe journey to London. Upon her return, her cheeks were red with more than the chill of the air and hot, angry tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She entered the bakery with a swift, stiff sort of step. She did not stop, however, to greet her aunt; instead she continued up the steps to her room.

"Espella?" Patty called after her, a tray of hot buns in one mitted hand.

No customers were currently commanding her attention and so she followed her young charge. Tapping briefly on the frame of the partially closed door, she saw the blonde girl seated on her bed. First Espella tore a couple of the flowers from her hair and almost as quickly return them to an approximation of their original position. Her stifled tears were only beginning to course down her pink cheeks.

"Why, what is the matter, dear?" Patty exclaimed, bustling over to the girl, seating herself on the bed, and encircling the young shoulders with one arm.

Espella's shoulders shook and a tear, larger than those yet fallen, escaped from the corner of her eye. She stared at a single bloom in her hand; its stem was nearly crushed between her fingers.

"Has something happened to you?" the baker asked, worry crinkling her brows. "If anyone has dared lay a hand on you he'll have to deal with my rolling pin!"

Had Barnham been there instead of at the old courthouse with Eve, he would surely have muttered something about severely disciplining any such miscreant who would dare mistreat a lady.

The young woman opened her mouth to protest the idea, but the only utterance which issued therefrom was a gasping sob. She put her face against Patty's shoulder and commenced crying; her aunt both patted her shoulder and hugged her through the storm of tears.

Espella pulled back a bit and wiped her nose. "Dad…" she mumbled.

"Lord Storyteller?" the baker questioned, a new crease of worry forming. "Why, is something the matter with him?"

N-no. No, no!" she cried and wept again. "He…he told me… Oh, Aunt Patty! He told me to take the flowers out of my hair!"

That lady pushed a few wisps of hair away from the flushed face. One of the blossoms had fallen slightly from Espella's replacement and it now hung over her ear. By what the girl had told her earlier about the flowers, she could guess why Cantabella had reacted thusly, but in the girl's current state she knew questions and reasoning would be lost on her.

"My dear, I am sorry," she said soothingly, rubbing her niece's back.

For the second time Espella sobbed until she felt she had more than used her allotment of tears. She wiped her face again and took a long, shaky breath. "I was just going to wish him a safe journey. I wanted to make sure he had enough warm things…especially for the boat ride." She began tearing up again. "As soon as he saw me he said, 'Take those things out of your hair, Espella. I won't have you wearing them!'" Looking to her lap she saw the flower that she had previously held; snatching it up she jammed the half-mangled bloom back into her hair. "I will wear them! I am a woman now and he can't order me around like a little girl! I won't remove them! I won't!"

Even as her lips curled in defiance, her tears again fell like gentle rain, adding to the dampness on Patty's shoulder and to her cloak which she'd yet to remove. With the hand not wrapped around the elder woman she reached to her pinned braids and grasped at the white blossoms; she let them fall where they might, like a shower of white petals.

~O~

A few hours later when Eve arrived at the bakery, she noticed immediately.

"…Espella, have you been crying?" she asked quietly. She leaned near her friend's ear so that she would not be overheard by the customer whose basket Patty filled by the shelves of bread.

The younger girl looked at her briefly and sighed. "Yes," she mumbled as she half-heartedly folded dough into their pans. "Are you finished with work, Eve?"

One corner of the former inquisitor's lip turned downward as she gazed upon her friend. "The construction tasks are complete for the day but I have more I shall attend to at home. That is of no consequence now though." She glanced away and noted with some satisfaction that the single customer had paid Baker Eclaire and exited the shop. "Espella, will you please tell me what has upset you so?"

The blonde girl raised her head slightly. "I don't want to talk about it right now…" Her dark blue eyes were like a storm-tossed ocean.

"Has it anything to do with your father?" Eve persisted in a gentler tone. More to herself she muttered, "Barnham would have to insist that he pilot him to the mainland, leaving me to deal with the squabbles between those ridiculous vigilantes."

Espella tried to put on a brave face, but her lip trembled. "If I tell you I'll probably start crying again. …And I have to help Aunt Patty."

The elder of the two pursed her lips, scowled and folded one arm over her chest. "I'm supposed to be the difficult one, not you."

"I'm sorry, Eve…" She sniffled quickly and went back to kneading that dough which still remained on the board. "I just don't want to cry all over the bread. Uhm… I suppose I could tell you about it later, if, well…if you stay for the night?"

"Hmm. Are you sure your loaves aren't in need of more salt? You could tell me now…" With her ungloved hand, the former high inquisitor traced a faint line in the flour coating the counter.

"Please, Eve?" the girl besought her, pausing mid-knead.

Those sad eyes and drooping eyebrows were more than the dark-haired young woman could resist. "Oh, very well," she agreed, quickly brushing off her whitened finger.

Espella smiled faintly, but even that assent did little to lift her mood. She murmured her gratitude and went back to work, separating another loaf's worth from the mound of dough. However, when Eve pulled her hood over her head again and stepped for the entryway, the blonde braids jumped as another head jerked up.

"You're not leaving—!"

"I have a duty to perform at my house. The villagers are expecting me. You mustn't fret Espella; I will be back a little bit later." With those words, she pulled on her doffed glove. "Mayhap you could save one of those éclairs for me? I have been thinking about them for days."

Espella let out the breath she'd been holding and a smile tugged at the very corners of her mouth. "Of course. You won't be too late, will you?"

The other young woman shook her head. "I will be back by eight."

"Travel safely," Patty said as she restocked empty spaces on the shelves and baskets on display near the bakery's entrance. "And stay warm!"

Dark-cloaked Eve nodded slightly, raised her hand in a brief gesture of farewell, and then ducked under the awning. Her friend also waved five fingers which were crusted with dough and flour. Then she sighed and for once wished that closing time was already upon them. Though she kept busy, the blonde girl kept thinking about her woes; her bright smile remained as hidden as the sun on that soggy afternoon.

True to her word, the former high inquisitor returned just a couple of minutes before the hour; she was first greeted by Patty, who was putting up the shutters at the front of the shop in preparation for the establishment's closure. As she stepped further into the shop, her dripping cape leaving a path of spots behind her, Eve all but tripped over her namesake. The black cat yowled, meowed and then leaped to the counter to lick herself.

"Oh Eve, I told you not to play there," Espella sighed.

"I still say you should consider changing the name of that little beast. Betimes I know not whether you speak to her or to me," said she of the same name.

She removed her gloves and held her hands over the fire; her movements caused the thick fabric of her cloak to brush the stove, culminating in a sizzling sound as moisture met heat. The dark-haired young woman glanced at her friend and frowned as she noted that her expression had not changed. She doubted whether Espella had truly smiled once since she'd last seen her; to Eve's own heart came a sorrowful little pang when she considered her faithful friend in such a mood.

The blonde girl approached her. "I'm so glad you came. Thank you, Eve…"

"Hmm. Yes, well…" Though she'd not admit it for all the successfully completed construction projects in the world, the elder young woman welcomed some company that dreary evening. The continual rain depressed her and being lonely always made her remember her father.

Espella continued cleaned the counters, shelves and various utensils they used. Patty, after closing up the front, gathered the empty baskets and set them just inside the pantry door. While Eve opened her cloak and let the heat of the oven reach her bones, the other two stored the leftover bread for the morrow.

"Here's that éclair you asked for," said the girl, proffering that item with one hand while in the other she gripped a broom.

"Thank you." Eve accepted the deliciously scented morsel and bit into it. "Mrs. Eclaire, this pastry is a credit to your name."

"Why, how sweet of you, my dear! It is a simple recipe but it will always be my best one. Excuse me now; I must bank the fire for the night."

The former high inquisitor moved aside, continued to consume her treat, and sidestepped Espella a couple of times. She ended up standing near the large counter on which the black feline had taken refuge. Cat-Eve unsuccessfully tried to nibble at the éclair, too, until her namesake relented and removed a small bit for the pet. Then, as if summoned by the sound of food being salivated and swallowed, a dirty white puffball bounded into the bakery.

"Constantine, what are you doing here?" Espella questioned, pausing in her sweeping motions.

The dark-haired young woman looked up from her pastry. "Za…hmph! Barnham thought he'd be better off staying here rather than going out on the boat today. I think the mutt gets seasick or some such thing."

From the spot in which he stood below the counter, the mutt growled, his sodden, grimy tail lifted toward the ceiling and one ear flattened to his head. From above, feline and young woman, both with sweet morsels at their mouths, hardly deigned to give him notice.

"I would have thought Sir Barnham would send him back here to the bakery after he left," the girl murmured, crouching to give him a little rub behind the ears.

"I'm sure he did, but it seems that dog has ideas of his own."

"He's wet and dirty. I'm sure he's hungry too."

Espella left her broom and her task and disappeared through the door at the rear of the shop, shortly returning with a bun in her hand. She knelt and held it out; Constantine forsook his self-appointed post and tore into the bread with the same purpose with which he had terrorized several farms when he was not much more than a baby.

The baker finished piling ashes over the coals and new wood, removed her apron and mitts, and yawned. "Good night, my dears. Be sure you don't stay up too late now, you hear?"

"We won't, Aunt Patty."

Placing the broom against the wall, the blonde girl extinguished all the candles save one that she carried. She reached for her friend's hand. "Let's go up to my room, Eve. We can talk there." Turning back briefly to the animals, she clicked her tongue. "Come on, Constantine, Eve."

The chimney rose through one of the walls of Espella's room, making the area habitable despite damp and chill. The elder of the two young women hung her cloak upon the hook on the door and removed her boots. She moved toward the small table near the bed while her friend covered Constantine with an old blanket. Much yapping and barking ensued as the blonde rubbed him, but when his head finally emerged between the worn folds, he was considerably cleaner; Espella smiled almost imperceptibly.

"Woof, woof! Woof!" the little fellow cried indignantly.

Turning tail, he used his nose to widen the crack in the door and in a second was gone. He ran for his master's room and, though colder than the one he'd just left, waited patiently there by the bed until his knight returned.

"He cared not for your attentions," Eve remarked dryly, glancing up from something on the table that had caught her eye and her interest.

"I know… At least he'll be comfortable now, without all that dirt." She dropped the blanket she'd utilized into a basket near the door and then plunked on the bed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I'm not very good company, am I?"

The dark-haired young woman let the pages she'd been perusing fall to their original state and approached her friend. Taking care that she did sit on the feline, she first shooed the animal and then settled herself next to the blonde girl, placing an arm loosely about her shoulders.

"And that's why you're going to tell me what's bothering you."

Espella's gaze sank and a sigh once more rose in her throat; she folded her hands in her lap. "You were right, you know." She let out her breath shakily. "It is about Dad."

Stiffening slightly, the former high inquisitor sat just a little bit straighter and put her arm closer about her friend's shoulders. "This is about more than his leaving today, isn't it?" she muttered, drawing her free hand into a fist. "Never mind what I said before, Espella. If this is just going to make you cry more, mayhap you shouldn't tell me after all."

The girl sniffled and began to fiddle with the end of one of her braids. "I love Dad, but you know he can be so…so bullheaded!"

"Like father, like daughter," Eve mused. Oh, she well knew the stubbornness of the Storyteller.

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right. But I don't want that to come between us, especially after everything that happened last year!" The tears slipped silently down either side of her nose and she turned her head toward her best friend. "I put those flowers in my hair—you know the ones that my mum loved—and Dad, he…he told me to remove them, never to wear them again! We argued, Eve. I got so mad! I said things I wish I hadn't. And now he's gone to London and I don't know what to do! Oh, Eve! What am I to do? What am I going to do?!"

The elder young woman held her best friend as she sobbed. She felt woefully inadequate in properly comforting Espella and she winked back a few sympathetic tears of her own. Eve's mind whirled with all the biting things she could throw at Cantabella upon his return; she could almost loathe him as she had when she believed him to be responsible for her father's death but she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do that. Instead she resolved to gift him with a piece of her serious displeasure when he returned. At the time she did not consider how much he was probably already punishing himself for so distressing his daughter.

A spot of movement caught her eye; she lowered her gaze and saw that Espella's pet was playing with something small and white that seemed familiar. The cat continually batted it across the floor and under the little table, occasionally taking a little nip at it. At first Eve thought it was a much torn piece of paper and her thoughts went to the book on the table, but she quickly realized that the feline's plaything was too soft and malleable to be such. Only then did she recognize it as one of the white blooms over which her friend had previously been so pleased.

Her eyes rimmed with red, Espella drew back, the dewy drops of tears still clinging to her lashes. "I'm sorry. You agreed to stay here and now all I do is blubber all over you."

"If I did not wish to be here I wouldn't be. Do stop apologizing, Espella."

In the few moments of silence that followed, the blonde girl also noticed her cat and the object with which she played. As if mesmerized she continued watching the antics of the furry little creature while a few more salty drops fell and she inhaled several shaky breaths.

"He loved your mum."

Espella choked on the air in her throat. "W-what?"

"Your dad still loves her, more than he realizes I should guess. Yes, our fathers loved our mothers." Eve swallowed a queer little lump that had risen to her own throat. "There were a few times when Father would look at me and get such a look in his eyes that I thought he was about to cry. Did you know he kept a picture of her buried in the old crate in his basement workshop? Doubtless, looking upon it was so painful that he wanted never to see it again, yet he couldn't bear to discard it…" The former high inquisitor paused to quell the flurry of emotion that welled up inside her. "Jean found it and brought it to me."

"Ohh, Eve…" the younger of the two breathed, appearing as though she could sob again.

"I'm afraid I am not one to advise you. I appreciate that you are angry with Mr. Cantabella. I should like to yell at him myself. Now 'tis my turn to say I'm sorry."

"No, no," Espella hastened to assure her while she felt around for her handkerchief. "You have helped me. I didn't think of it before, but now I know why Dad was so upset." She found the sought-after square of fabric, mopped her face and then offered it to her friend. "I wish he didn't feel that way, though. I love those sweet little flowers just as my mother did. Now I can't remember what she looked like very well. Did she have hair like mine, Eve?"

"Hers was a bit darker as I recall," replied she, lifting a blonde plait that had lost its fastening. As the young woman fingered it, the braid came undone still further. "She was fond of saying how she loved having a little sunbeam for a daughter. She always put you in braids because you were so cute in them."

"Really?" Espella breathed, her eyes filled with a bittersweet joy and her lips trembling slightly. "I don't remember that…"

Those golden tresses were like so many strands of sun-kissed silk, Eve reflected. When she was hardly more than five she was jealous of what she had thought to be perfect hair. "Espella, where is your comb?"

"Oh, uhm… It's right over here."

She hopped up from the bed and picked up that item, lying on top of her little bookcase. Guessing what her friend had in mind, she pulled out the end of her other braid as she handed the implement to Eve. She dabbed at her tear-streaked face once more as the other young woman began to run the comb through her hair with firm strokes that were somehow also gentle.

Espella closed her eyes, took another long breath, and said, "If you don't mind, could I…see your mother's picture sometime?"

An all too silent few seconds followed, in which the fingers controlling the comb all but ceased movement. Struck with the concern that her request had hurt her friend, the blonde girl began to turn her head. A hand stayed her progress.

"O-of course, if that is your wish," Eve murmured, her voice trembling slightly. The younger of the two felt her move slightly and then resume her work. "Be still, Espella, or your hair will all be snarls."

"I suppose I could ask Dad if he still has a picture of Mum," she reflected sadly. "But he probably won't want to answer that one."

The former high inquisitor made a sound in her throat as she continued her self-appointed task. She brought the comb through the length of the blonde locks five more times and began on a sixth. "Speaking of pictures… I noticed your book on the table and looked through some of the pages."

"Oh, my sketchbook? I like to scribble people and things when I have a few spare moments. Do you like them, Eve?"

"I knew you have an affinity for artistry but I did not know how real your drawings are. I wish I had seen them sooner." She loosed her hands on Espella's hair while her friend leaned forward to snatch the book from the table. "Have you shown them to anyone?"

"Weeell…no," the girl admitted, rapidly flipping through a few pages. "I never really thought they were very good and I just did them for fun. Some of these are from a few years ago." She laughed and continued fanning the leaves of the book.

"I could tell. Your style has improved. Is that Mrs. Eclaire?"

Espella turned back a few pages and a surprisingly life-like impression of Patty smiled up at them from the paper. "I drew this on the day we sold every bit of bread in the bakery. We found out that we didn't have any for dinner and we had to make more!"

She bypassed more pages filled with quick sketches of customers, more elaborate drawings of her cat and aunt. Then began a section in which Eve, the Storyteller and sometimes a few others popped up with more regularity. The girl paused after turning to a page which depicted Barnham in shirtsleeves and apron, working at the counter as he grit his teeth and practically pulverized a stubborn lump of flour and yeast.

Espella giggled. "He still wears that exact expression when he kneads the dough!"

"Hmph. How ridiculous," Eve replied disdainfully. However, the next sweep of the comb was not as careful as the rest and she grazed an ear. "He always has to make a spectacle of himself, what with the faces and the grunts like he's training with full armor. You and Mrs. Eclaire never go that far."

The blonde girl shrugged. "I guess it's a man thing. Maybe he feels like he's locked in battle with the bread." She turned another leaf and found herself smiling at the next page, the entirety of which was filled with her best friend in the shade of pencil. "I like how this one of you turned out," she admitted candidly.

Pausing in her grooming motions, the other young woman again peered over Espella's slight shoulder. "I am biting my lip in that one. Must you capture such detail?"

"You were concentrating. That was the day you played checkers with Mr. Barnham, except I didn't bother to draw the board. You were a much more interesting subject!"

Eve rolled her eyes, unseen by her friend. "I cannot fathom how a man with all his strategy could be so terrible at the game. Hmph!"

To her mind came the image of another drawing of her, save that it was hasty scrawled and had a dagger sticking through it. She exercised the comb a few more times as she frowningly recollected who had thrown the weapon which he'd never bothered to remove. Then, with a few deft more deft movements she tied a ribbon around the golden tresses and leaned back.

The covers of the book met each other as Espella reached a hand to feel her hair. "You're not going braid it or anything?"

"You know I'm not good with that," her friend replied, folding her arms. "Anything other than simple braids is beyond me. I always had one of the shades to help with mine before…"

The blonde young woman smiled softly. "Then I'm just going to have to teach you."

~O~

Barnham returned to the bakery the next morning before the women were quite finished with their breakfast. Constantine bolted from the establishment, raced across the length of cobblestones that marked the distance between them, and launched himself at his master. The knight lifted his faithful companion, uncaring that the pup's paws made a muddy mess out of his shirtfront and cloak. His face wet with more than the morning's drizzle, he ducked beneath the bakery's awning and bowed to the ladies.

"Hello, Sir Barnham!" Espella called out, though her visage lacked her usual buoyancy of spirit. "…Your trip to London went…well, I hope?" She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but then pressed her lips together firmly.

"Indeed, Miss Cantabella. The Lord Storyteller arrived safely in the city and will return in a fortnight."

Eve merely sat and viewed him rather coolly for a moment before she turned her attention back to her tea.

"Were you driving the boat back all night?" Patty demanded as she rose, plucked his cloak from the stool on which he'd thrown it, and pressed it back into his hands. "You must be tired and hungry."

"I would enjoy some breakfast, Mrs. Eclaire. I ate all that you sent with me."

He hung his damp outer garment next to the dry ones and then settled himself at the little table, whereupon Patty placed a heaping plate before him. Constantine yapped, circled his master's chair several times and then settled beneath it. Within moments he was up again to argue with a certain feline over a delectable bit of sausage that had somehow fallen on the floor.

Eve turned her gaze to the knight once more. "I trust you will be prepared to continue our work where we left off yesterday, ah…Barnham. You did us no favors yesterday by insisting on the journey. I told you someone else could well do it."

He swallowed a great mouthful of sunny eggs. "Why should I entrust another with a duty that is mine? However, this day I am at your disposal, Miss Belduke. We'll finish the renovations to the courthouse."

"Do not think you are indispensable to the work; we simply needed more hands. My concern is not that we finish, but that we finish today," she replied. Her eyes narrowed for a second. "We are already behind on the project. The townspeople wait on us to fulfil our promises for several other tasks as well."

"Understood," he said. He saluted with his knife and immediately forked another mountain of potato to his mouth.

The former high inquisitor turned to the baker. "Thank you, Mrs. Eclaire, for the splendid breakfast. Espella, I'll see you later. I have a message which I must run down to the village."

Barnham took a swig of water to wash everything down. "I would be pleased to do this errand for you, Miss Belduke. I have already been out in the rain this morning."

She turned back to him with the corners of her mouth losing a fight against gravity. "You?" she repeated as she placed one hand on her hip. "I think not. Do you not recall how the villagers ousted you when last you set foot in their part of the woods? They do not take kindly to knights."

His face darkened as he struggled to keep the grimace from his lips. "Ah…that… Erm, yes…"

The dark-haired young woman retrieved her own cloak, as dry and warm as anyone could wish on such a miserable day. "All I want from you Barnham is that you be at the courthouse at the appointed time."

Silently Espella also rose and helped tug the thick garment over her best friend's shoulders. "'Bye, Eve. Thanks for coming." Her expression was more doleful than it had been a minute beforehand.

Eve closed her cape and took her friend's hand, unseen by the others in the room, her expression having softened considerably. "I suppose you want be to promise to be back here later, hmm?" she murmured.

The blonde young woman nodded. "Will you?"

"Of course. Don't I always come back anyway?"

She tensed somewhat when Espella unexpectedly leaned forward and enveloped her in a brief embrace. Then she relaxed and the hand not trapped in the folds of her cape she placed lightly against her friend's back. Then the girl released her and she hastened from the establishment. She spared one last penetrating look to her co-worker, as if daring him to be late to the job.

They completed the renovations on the courthouse, which put Eve in a more approachable frame of mind as they turned their attentions to other buildings. The sun finally found a break in the seemingly perpetual gray clouds and then the storms turned tail and fled the area as if they were tired of their depressing job. The sodden land, soaked with so much rain, sent up mist as the bright golden rays struck it; the temperatures made everyone forget the winter. Within two weeks every growing thing in the town and the surrounding area was bathed in the fresh green promise of spring. All the streets rang with renewed labors and everyone seemed to be in vastly brighter spirits…save one.

Espella still smiled, chattered on to her aunt, kept her tongue when Barnham made a mess out of the bread, and welcomed Eve whenever she stopped by, but there were other times in which she grew silent and the troubled look returned to her eyes. The two females who were close to her frowned when they saw her thusly; Patty spoke and tried to console her, and Eve even set aside some of her extracurricular tasks and spent still more time with her friend. Still the blonde young woman fretted that she'd driven a wedge between herself and her father, and she imagined that the fact that he hadn't yet returned was the result of a desire to avoid her.

Kira dropped by the bakery one day, her usual basket of blooms hanging over her arm. After purchasing a couple loaves of bread, she hesitated. "Espella?"

She of that name lifted her head as she assumed a small smile. "Oh hello, Kira. How are you faring in your flower selling today? I hope it is going well."

"It's okay, I guess. Uh, I have some of those little star-shaped flowers that you liked so much. Would you like to buy some?"

The blonde girl's smile disappeared. Her throat worked but her mouth moved not as she struggled to find words. Patty noticed their exchange and with a furrow to her forehead she drew near her dear adoptive niece.

"Kira, perhaps you could come back another day, hm?" the baker suggested.

Espella lifted her head slightly and nearly interrupted her aunt. "N-no thank you. I'm sorry…" However, she had difficulty looking the flower seller in the eye.

"Okay, fine. Whatever." Kira marched out, her own expression having taken a turn for the worse. As her feet met the cobbles again she muttered with a little sneer, "I suppose that's what I get for trying to do someone else a favor!"

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she took no notice of the hurrying figure coming around the corner until they were mere inches from collision. A second later she found herself on the street, the stones of which suddenly seemed much harderthan they had moments before. She glanced up to see a redheaded knight standing over her.

"Ugh! Why don't you watch where you're going?!" she demanded, frowning as she scrambled to retrieve her basket and the flowers which had scattered.

After a moment he also leaned down to lend his hands to the job. "I'd wager to say you were paying as little attention as I was," he said, without looking in her direction.

"Well what if I was, Mr. Smarty Greaves? You should still watch where you're going!" Her fingers were not quick enough to rescue some of the blooms which were trampled underfoot by passersby. "Look what you're done! What am I going to do with these?!" She grabbed a flower from his fingertips as he was about to pick it up.

"I suppose an apology would not satisfy you?" he asked, his face stiffly set.

"Unless you can fix my crumpled flowers…" she snapped back. "…Hardly!" She rose to her feet and scowled first at her ruined blooms and then at him.

Barnham let the contents of his hands spill into her lifted wicker. "Then would you like me to pay for the damage?"

"No." The girl hooked her basket under her arm and began stalking away again.

"Wait, Miss Kira."

She turned, her brown eyes emanating her aggravation. "What?!" she cried. "What do you want? I suppose you'd like nothing better than to throw me into the flames again!"

He flinched slightly and a rather pained look came to his eyes, only to be covered again by his steely gaze. "I merely thought I would purchase some flowers from you. But if you do not wish it then I can find them elsewhere. Good day, Miss Kira."

This time it was he who made an abrupt about-face and began to stride away from the flower girl. His lips were half lost as he pressed them together, his eyebrows lowered over fiercely glaring eyes and his fists clenched. With lowered head he took no notice of those around him; whoever passed by gave them quick looks and then continued on their ways.

"All right, all right, you win," came a feminine voice behind him. "You've already caused me enough trouble so just hurry up and pick them out, already!"

In silence he selected a few random blooms and passed the required coin to her.

"Now are we done here? I can't loiter around all day like some people, you know." She dropped the money into her pocket. "My boss is not going to be happy about this…"

"One last thing, Miss Kira."

She turned back to him with a spark of ire igniting in her eyes. "What?!"

Matching her agitated expression, the knight replied, "I would be remiss in my duties if I did not mention that two men were looking for you."

"Who were they?" One eyelid crinkled and she put her other hand around the handle of her basket.

"That I do not know. They were just tourists. On the last tourist day they made inquiries of a number of people and showed all a picture which bore something of your likeness. I questioned them and they informed me they were searching for a relative."

The flower seller gripped her wicker container with whitening knuckles. "You didn't arrest them or anything?!"

Barnham's own expression grew tighter and his eyes harder. "Was there a reason to, Miss Kira?"

"I…" She clamped her mouth shut; her eyes bespoke a frightened look, though it was more of a naughty child who faced consequences rather than stark terror. She turned so that she was no longer facing him. "No. Just forget it."

As the girl hurried away, he watched her for a moment more with creased brow. He hadn't given the two men any indication that he recognized the picture, as he reasoned it was a matter for her to decide. He would spread the word to the other knights to be especially watchful for any suspicious activity on the part of any tourist. They'd concocted a decent way of screening their potential visitors beforehand, but a determined person could likely find some way to the town regardless. Barnham's duty was to protect the town and all therein and it was something he would do without regard for favor, or disfavor, of any citizen.

Only when he entered the bakery did he realize he was still holding the flowers he'd purchased in such a hurry. As Patty was for the moment out of the kitchen, he proffered them to Espella with the careless suggestion that she might divide them between herself, Mrs. Eclaire and Eve. However, the blonde girl shied away and appeared very much like she was on the verge of tears.

Argh! These females! No man can ever figure them out! he thought, carelessly tossing the blooms to a little display table of bread and then busying himself by filling the large water jugs.

When Eve dropped by sometime later to check on her friend, both females were out for the moment. The former high inquisitor settled on a stool to wait. She watched, a half-smile lighting her face as Barnham wrestled with the bread. Rising from her seat, she stepped to the doorway and looked out, hoping that Espella's return was imminent, and then turned her gaze all around the room. She bit at her lips slightly, her eyes held a look of concern, and her gaze was distant as if she was thinking of someone not present.

"Why are these flowers here?" she questioned, stopping at the small table and picking up the somewhat wilted blooms. A few of the petals had fallen to the floor. "This cannot be anyone's idea of a new display and Espella and Mrs. Eclaire would not leave them thusly." Her arms full, she stood at the side of the counter opposite the knight, her expression demanding an explanation.

He glanced up briefly. "Indeed, I bought them. I offered them to Miss Cantabella but she did not want them."

"You did what? Zacharias Barnham, how can you be so insensitive?!"

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled and he actually ceased torturing the dough for the moment. "What do you mean?"

"Marvelous…" she muttered, closing her eyes and placing a hand to her forehead. Opening those green-blue orbs again, she fixed them sternly on the knight. "Haven't you noticed anything about Espella in the last two weeks?"

"I suppose she has been…different of late."

Eve slammed first the flowers and then her palms on the countertop, leaned forward and glared. "You 'suppose'? Meaning you haven't actually noticed anything! Ugh, you men can be as observant as a gate post!" She paused and caught both her breath and her rising volume. No customers were faring the shop at that particular time and she didn't want to attract undue attention. "Espella has not been herself. She won't be until her father returns. In fact," she added, moving back slightly. "I've decided that you're going to bring him back."

The dough was drying to a crust on Barnham's hands as he stared at her. "But he has not sent word of his return."

"I care not. You're bringing him back. Espella needs to see him." A triumphant little smile crept to her lips and she began to think of what she was going to do with the sad blooms. She also had to decide when she was going to mention the idea which had been flowering in her mind like the green growth of the countryside. "While you're in the city you can purchase those supplies we talked about."

"But we haven't need of those for months yet…" he maintained in vain.

"It matters not. Espella needs her father. You'd best prepare the boat."


	4. ...Growing Pains

The seas being calmer, Constantine accompanied him to London that time; the little pup ran at his heels as he hurried to the building which held the offices and plant of Labrelum Inc. He had to get through the several receptionists and secretaries who would either giggle and stare at him as if he had hives all over his face, or give him a stern eye when he spoke in his Labyrinthian way. When he reached the outer office of the president he had to wait for Cantabella to finish with his meeting. His pup, who would not have been separated from his master in this foreign place for all the protests of the company's personnel, perched himself next to Barnham and kept his dark little eyes on anyone who cast a glance in their direction.

Upon his return from a board meeting, the Storyteller saw that the redhead waiting for him; the latter shot to his feet at the approach of his employer. Even Constantine stood as tall as he could while still standing on the bench.

"Ah, Barnham. What brings you here? Things are well in Labyrinthia?" His pale blue eye bore a look of concern as he bade his visitor enter his office.

"Yes sir. The construction is going well and the fall of rain has ceased for the time."

"Why are you here then?"

"Erm, yes Lord—ah—Mr. Cantabella. I… have come to bring you back."

That gentleman's eyebrows lowered and he rubbed his chin. "Hrrmm… And who told you to do that?"

"'Twas Miss Belduke who suggested it, sir. She said Espella needs you."

The Storyteller's whole demeanor changed to something both employees and competitors knew to fear. "What did you say?!"

"'Tis the message she gave me." As Barnham kept the gaze of the elder man, he quickly had to swallow a slightly nervous feeling that rose in his throat. He was reminded of the time he first met the creator of Labyrinthia before he had become a knight.

Cantabella's lips twisted in a self-depreciatory grimace and though his chin was firmly set, it seemed to tremble a bit. "We are leaving right now."

Both men wasted no time in returning to the dock and boarding the familiar vessel which bore them back to Labyrinthia. Throughout the journey the white-haired gentleman continued to wear a half angry, half worried expression and he attempted to ascertain the exact situation of his daughter. In that aspect Barnham found himself incredibly lacking, just as Eve had so bluntly told him; he gripped the wheel all the harder and wished women weren't so hard to figure out.

The townspeople hailed them in cheerful fashion upon their arrival, but the Storyteller was too distracted to pay much attention as he hurried in search of his beloved daughter. His destination, the bakery, yielded no results, as Patty informed him that both Eve and Espella had gone to the former's house. While the town's creator departed, Barnham remained behind at the request of that lady.

In the mansion by the lake, the former high inquisitor waved another packet of seeds in front of her friend's face. "You're not paying attention, Espella," she said, throwing down the small envelope.

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry! I was just…thinking."

Eve exhaled quickly and with some exasperation. "Espella, you're moping."

The blonde young woman also sighed and loosely clasped her hands before her chest. She fixed her best friend with the most doleful, pitiable eyes imaginable. "I'm so sorry, Eve. I know I'm being the silliest girl in the world, but no matter how hard I try I can't seem to shake it… Last year when I finally saw Dad again and when Mr. Wright and Mr. Layton brought down the curtain of illusion, I thought everything was starting over again. It was supposed to a brand new story! So why… why…" She dropped her faces and the tears gathered like they had so many times of late.

"It is a new story, in a way," the elder of the two intoned gently as she took her friend's hand. "There are things I would like to forget as well, but we both know that doesn't work. Anyway, what sort of story would we have if we forgot everything that happened in the last one?"

The mistress of the house could hear a series of raps on the front door but she moved not as she knew someone else would answer it long ere she could descend the stairs. It seemed as though there was always someone in her house even if she was not, usually some of the number of former shades and residents of the Nulwitch Village; Eve always kept her door open to them, be it because her home was the best place to cook, to wash laundry, to get away from bickering families, to stay for a night or more because of a leaking roof, to use her library, or a multitude of other reasons they had for coming by.

Espella's shoulders rose and fell as she caught another deep, shaky breath. "Of course you're right, Eve. You always are."

The dark-haired young woman squeezed the other hand tighter. "I'm not always right, you know," she murmured. Before she'd allow herself to sink into thoughts that she knew would drag her down into a mood like that of her friend, she raised her head and gazed upon her friend. "All this talk and we haven't decided on one flower. You told me you would help select some that would look most fetching this summer."

However, before either girl could decide on anything, a knock sounded on the open door as their visitor announced himself. Both of them looked up to see the white-haired Storyteller, his hair tangled by salty breezes and his traveling cape hanging over only one shoulder. For some reason he said nothing, but his good eye sought out his daughter and then held her in a gaze which seemed at first to be all austerity.

She of the blonde braids rose and fixed him also with her moist eyes. "Dad…" she whispered. Flying toward him, she stopped within a foot of him and once more averted her face. She clasped her hands together so tightly that her fingertips became pink. Her voice was like the murmur of a breeze. "I'm so sorry…"

"Espella…" He covered his visage with his hand. "You have nothing for which you need to apologize. It was my fault. I should never have been so stern with you."

"Oh, Dad!" she wept.

Closing the distance between them, she pressed the side of her face against his buttons and clung to him, letting go of her anguish in quiet sobs which brought relief to her troubled soul. Her sunny blonde hair covered half of Cantabella's sun and dark moon brooch. After a moment he brought his arms around and completed the embrace, lowering his head over that of his daughter's.

Eve, who had been watching them with just the barest hint of a smile forming at her lips, slowly sank back to the sofa and fixed her eyes elsewhere. She pushed further away the myriad of tiny seed packages and scratched her friend's pet behind the ears. The feline mewed and raised her head to nuzzle against the hand. The former high inquisitor had been rather adverse to the idea of allowing the little dark-furred creature onto her best furniture, but had swallowed her protests for the sake of her dearest friend.

Her eyes still shining with tears, Espella slightly loosened her grip on her father and used one hand to wipe some of the tears from her cheeks. "Dad, I'm so glad you came back… I-I kept thinking about you and wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for what I said to you. I… I know why you reacted the way you did. I won't wear Mum's flowers if you don't want me to!"

The Storyteller's hand tightened against her back. "No, Espella. You wear whatever flowers you wish. I am but a bitter, broken man, growing old." His jawline became more rigid as he lowered his voice. "My dear daughter, can you ever forgive me for hurting you?"

Pulling back from his chest and lifting her eyes to meet his pale blue gaze, she replied, "Of course. I don't want anything to come between us, Dad."

She hugged him again quickly and then remembered her friend. She waved to Eve and bade her come over, to which the other young woman complied. Cantabella's severe expression softened as he looked upon two girls; one was his daughter by blood and the other an adopted daughter of affection.

"I hope you did not mind me sending for you, Mr. Cantabella," the former high inquisitor said as she approached and Espella turned to take her hand.

"You did well, Eve. You had more sense than this stubborn old fool."

"Oh Dad, don't talk like that!" the blonde girl scolded him gently.

The tears were still upon her cheeks, but with one arm around her father and the opposite hand possessing that of her friend's, she bothered not with brushing the moisture away. No one would think to notice much beyond the joyful smile which both curved her lips and brought a light to her eyes.

"Can we go back to the bakery now? Aunt Patty would love to see you, Dad. Oh, and perhaps we can all have dinner together!"

"I see no reason that we cannot return there. I daresay Mrs. Eclaire will be glad to see your smile again. It was she who told me where to find you."

"You'll come too, won't you Eve?" Espella questioned eagerly with a squeeze of her hand.

The other young woman purposely pursed her lips so as to avoid giving any indication of mirth. "Whatever happened to picking out our seeds, hm?"

"Oh, come on. We can do that later!" And as she glimpsed Eve's mouth losing the battle of the smile, she tugged at her friend's fingers. "You can't fool me! I know you want to come."

"Ah, well I suppose I can't keep up the pretense any longer. Gathering together for a meal would be an ideal time to explain an idea I've had for a while now."

Cantabella watched them and listened to their playful banter with a thread of tired satisfaction in his eye. "An idea?" he inquired of her. "I am intrigued and I look forward to hearing it."

"Oh, yes! You must tell us right away, Eve! You can just repeat it later. No one will mind."

"Hmm, I suppose I could. I have a feeling you won't stop bothering me until I do."

The threesome exited the room and then the mansion. On the way to the outdoors they passed several villagers who were occupied to some degree or another with varied activities, ranging from the exertive task of moving large pieces of furniture about, to the simplest thing such as carrying on a conversation. All of them stopped, even for a moment, to salute those who passed them and to each Eve gave a few words. The grounds outside were similarly engaged, what with the care of the stable's horses, of the surrounding gardens, and even some rain-related repairs on a couple of the sheds. In between all this, the former high inquisitor gave voice to her inspiration.

"For a while now the townspeople have missed the excitement of the parades we used to have so often."

"Uh-huh," Espella agreed, nodding. "I've noticed that too."

The Storyteller faltered but one step. "I would not have guessed they'd miss the parades once they knew the event's true purpose. At any rate, we do hold parades when the tourists come."

"Yes, and it's quite a thrill for the tourists, but we need something more for those who dwell here. I have come up with an excellent plan—we will give everyone stories again."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his expression somber enough that someone who did not know him might think he was upset.

Eve continued, feeling her confidence heighten as she expounded further into her idea. "You could make books again, like that one you made for Espella. The children would love to be gifted with their own stories."

"That is a simply marvelous idea!" the blonde young woman exclaimed exultantly. She grasped her friend's hand in a quick squeeze.

"Hmmmm…" was all that came from Cantabella as he placed an open fist to his chin.

"And Espella, you could draw some of the illustrations. I was particularly impressed with those in your sketchbook."

"Ooh, I would love to do that! Giving out handmade books would make our parades so special!"

"So you still like to draw, do you, Espella?" the gentleman mused, his expression growing pensive. "I had almost forgotten about that."

She replied, "Well, I always watched you draw things and I tried it too because I wanted to be like you. Do you remember when we painted my room?" The girl stilled her tongue for a few moments as they recollected the great mess and all the fun they had. "Dad, we are going to take up Eve's idea, right?"

"At the very least we will test it," he said, looking first to one young woman and then to the other. "Though I'm doubtful as to whether you two fully realize the work these stories will entail. After a while a writer's mind begins to feel dried up for lack of inspiration."

"That may be so," the elder of the two girls replied quickly and evenly. "But we'll accept suggestions from townspeople. With more of us involved in the project, it will be harder to let it fall away."

"I can't wait to tell Aunt Patty!" Espella gushed. "I know she'll love the idea too. We'll tell her and Mr. Barnham and have a splendid dinner. Eve, you're wonderful!"

A small smile began to show under the edges of the Storyteller's silvery mustache. "Hmm. I hope she's baked a batch of those butter rolls…"

However, their plans would not come to fruition that night. As they neared the forest-shrouded passageway which would take them to the other side of the great wall, rapid steps and half breathless shouts approached them whence the direction they'd just traveled; around the slight bend in the road came two children. The girl, who had not yet reached the double digit years, was wholly unsuccessful at keeping up with the long legs of the boy and it was he who reached the trio first.

Eve turned around completely and stepped nearer, holding out her hand as if she were going to stop him. "What is the matter, Eduard?" she required of him, her tone holding a portion of her old authority.

His breath escaping his mouth in heaves, he gasped, "Miss Belduke…you must come! One of the babies…is lost!"

"Oh no…" that young woman breathed. Her eyes grew dark with concern and the corners of her mouth sank with the celerity of a stone.

Espella also uttered a small exclamation of horror as her hand flew to her mouth. The little girl came to a stop beside Eduard; and she was out of breath from more than their exertion; tears leaked from her eyes like the rain that had not long before deluged the land.

The former high inquisitor drew a breath. "Who was lost and where did it happen? Quickly now, tell me!"

"It's Bianca, M-Miss Belduke!"

Both Espella and her father had neared Eve. The gentleman grunted, "A lost child in the forest. This does not bode well." Only his daughter took notice of his words; as she did another tremor of apprehension passed through her.

"Everyone is back in the village!" the boy told them. "They're going out to look for her!"

The girl, by name of Nell, tugged at the dark-haired young woman's hand, and pleaded pitifully, "Please…oh please come!"

But Eve was already moving in that direction, with the boy once more racing ahead, and both Cantabellas following closely behind. They passed by the mansion grounds, which were decidedly more deserted than they had been minutes before; they reached the river and meadow beyond it, noticing several other persons ahead of them, all hurrying in the same direction. The activity heightened as they approached the unofficial little village where some of the former shades had decided to remain. Eve and her small party joined the large cluster of people in front of one of the simple but sturdily built houses which were still in the process of replacing the former huts.

"It's Mistress Belduke!" someone said.

A woman cried, "She's here to help us search!"

"The mistress never lets us down!" another person shouted.

"And look who is with her!"

The villagers parted, making a path for them. In the center of the crowd, before the little home, Eve approached a short, slightly stout woman whose apron was lifted to trembling lips. A tow-headed man with splotches of paint on breeches and vest, held one arm around her back. As the former high inquisitor approached, she took the poor mother's hand. Nell threw her arms around her father's leg.

"We will find her, Rhoda," Eve assured her and motioned for a couple of the other ladies to accompany the distraught woman into her home.

"Go with your mother, Nell," the man with the paint stains told her.

With the girl gone, Eve turned to him and the others gathered there. "Has no one begun the search?"

"We've looked around the immediate area but found no trace of her," came the reply.

"It is well you've gathered here," she said. "Another storm appears to be coming our way and we must find her before it and nightfall. How did she disappear? She's not yet old enough to walk!"

"I don't know," Eben, the father of the lost child, replied while chewing his lip. "My wife and others were doing laundry near the river and she left Nell and Bianca to play nearby. Nell thinks her sister was carried away!" He placed a hand over his face.

"All right, then," Eve declared, keeping her voice even. "Everyone will simply have to spread out and comb the area. You'd best search anyplace a baby could hide and listen for any cries. It is possible she crawled away." Possible perhaps, but not entirely probable, she thought. "Most of all, keep yourselves safe as you search."

As the villagers began to head off in all directions, the Storyteller raised his voice. "You need more people for this search. I will send to the town for the knights and any volunteers."

"No!" a man shouted. "We won't have knights here!"

Eben faced the Storyteller with expression that could not match the stern one of the latter. "Mr. Cantabella, we would prefer to carry on this search for ourselves. Please! We have no need for outsiders."

"Hmph," grumbled the white-haired gentleman, his mouth turning down still further. What protest he might have in mind would never see the end of his tongue, as his daughter placed her hand lightly on his arm. Instead, he amended, "Then at least I will help in the search."

The father of the lost girl chewed his lip again. "Ah, well…thank you, sir." Turning away, he shuffled quickly to the edge of the village and onwards, aligning himself with the other men and handful of women in the hunt for his little girl.

Eve turned to her friend and Cantabella. "I am going inside to speak to Rhoda. Then I too will join the search."

"Uhm, Dad, do you mind if I go with Eve?" the blonde young woman asked, raising her eyes to meet his.

His fierce expression melted into something softer as he looked upon her. "Of course not. You be sure to stay with Eve. She knows this forest well."

Espella leaned into him with the briefest of hugs. "I will," she said, and then hastened to catch up with her friend, who was just entering the house.

The dreadfully anxious mother rose from the wooden kitchen chair as soon as the two approached her. "Oh, Miss Belduke! Y-you will find my little baby, won't you?!"

"Of course. We will find her," Eve replied, her voice calm but her eyes bespeaking apprehension. "Can you tell me what happened before Bianca disappeared? The smallest details may be of some help."

The woman had begun to wring her hands but as soon as she realized what she was doing she lowered them to her sides and instead clutched at her apron, which was still slightly damp from her earlier activity. "I left Nell and Bianca a distance from where we were doing the laundry—I didn't want them to get into the water. I put Bianca on a blanket and put her toys in front of her. It was almost time for her nap…"

Rhoda brought her apron to her face and therefrom issued the stifled sounds of her grief. One of the other women placed an arm around her shoulders and patted her sleeve with the other hand. Espella drew closer behind her friend and put her own arm in the crook of Eve's; she wished she could do something to really help the misfortunate family.

"I'm sorry," the mother mumbled, lowering the fabric. "My thoughts run wild while I am idle. I-I almost wish I could go out on the search, but…I have to be here when they bring my little girl back."

One of the other ladies said, "You know, Rhoda… I bet all those men'll be hungry as bears when they come back."

"An excellent idea," Eve agreed, her features relaxing slightly. "I will send word to my own kitchen and have them transport some of the stores here for you. Now we go to search for Bianca."

"Thank you, Mistress Eve…"

Espella and her friend went out and found the spot where the baby's blanket was still spread. Its wrinkled edges betokened only that Bianca had squirmed and her toys were either resting on it or just beyond. The sparse grass was only just beginning to respond to its urges to grow and gave no indication of the child being taken or having crawled away; the soil held no further clues.

Eve marched toward the river and the place where the ladies had been washing all sorts of garments. A couple of women were engaged in the task of pulled the forgotten laundry from the collection of large, sun-beaten boulders which lay adjacent to the site of the women's labors. The huge kettles, wooden paddles and crocks of soap flakes still sat on the shore and would ere long be spattered with rain, but who would care about those things when a child was missing?

Both young women moved downstream of the huge rocks where, just a few yards away and around a bend in the river, was the favored swimming place of the children. The only thing they found on the little bit of beach was a halfway demolished sand castle. Then they climbed the slightly sloping bank and carefully examined the area between the baby's blanket and the woods. Eve could find nothing out of place, not a dropped toy, not a footprint out of place, not a suspiciously broken branch. She pursed her lips and wished she had a magic spell for finding that which was lost.

Espella approached her from behind what seemed to be a hastily put together sack. The younger girl's face was also serious. "There's nothing here, is there?"

"No," the other young woman sighed. "I had hoped we would find something that would lead us to finding her, but I suppose that was too much to hope. What is that you're holding, Espella?"

"Oh, this? I pulled all the toys in the blanket and gathered it up. I thought Mrs. Rhoda would like to have them back."

"Uhm-hm," Eve mumbled, nodding absently. "As we couldn't find anything here, I'll simply have to begin searching with all the others. Are you coming?"

The two girls meandered over much of the forest floor, minutely examining any small area in which a nine-month-old baby could potentially hide; they often crossed paths with another searcher and word filtered to them that no one had yet been successful. Eve's expression never once relaxed and though she would not admit it she was growing terribly worried that something foul had fallen upon the tiny child. Her blonde friend remained at her side, keeping pace as nearly as she could with the makeshift bag. Espella's pet ever followed them on paws as silent as the coming of night; a couple of times she disappeared, padding silently into the brush only to return some minutes later.

After an hour of seeking, all with disappointing results, Espella dropped onto a half rotten, fallen tree; they had been climbing a hill and she felt more out of breath than her friend looked to be. Eve the cat also jumped to join her, curled herself up, and purred contentedly as if she were in front of the fire at the bakery. Meanwhile, her human namesake scanned their surroundings and wondered why there had to be so many trees to obstruct her view.

"Phew…" the younger of the two breathed. "That hill was steeper than I thought! Why…did we come up here, anyway? You don't think the baby could get…up here, do you?"

Eve turned to her and replied, "I doubt it, but by now we can leave no place unchecked. Maybe you should head back now if you're tired and you can give her that bundle you've been lugging with you."

"Are you sure, Eve? I am tired, but I hate to leave you alone to search."

"Do not worry yourself about that. I will be fine. Please tell Rhoda on my behalf that we are covering this land and we will find her daughter."

"Well, if you're sure, okay," Espella said quietly, and then she mentioned a little plan which had been forming in her mind.

"They will appreciate that," the former high inquisitor responded. "Take care on your way back. The storm is nearly upon us and night is not far off."

"You too, Eve."

The blonde young woman easily found her way back to the village, left both bundle and message, and then hastened to the bakery. However, when she returned to the residences of the forest, with a large basket bursting with bread weighing down one arm and her cloak covering her from the smattering of rain beginning to fall, she was not alone. A certain knight, the hood of his own cloak covering his flaming hair, preceded her on the wide path; they in turn were accompanied by two small animals of nearly opposite colors. Cat-Eve pranced sedately by Espella's side, while Constantine raced ahead and barked ferociously at any village animals who dared come within several feet of him.

Under the cover of the trees and with darkness encroaching fast, the homes in the village were only discernable by the slight glow that shone through a few windows. However, Eben and Rhoda's home was lit brightest of all; toward it the duo moved, only to be brought up immediately as a figure in a dark cloak stepped in front of them.

"Who goes there?" questioned a distinctly masculine voice.

"It's just me, Espella Cantabella. We bring bread for everyone," the girl said, stepping forward before her companion could quite form a reply. She hefted her basket with some difficulty.

The man behind the challenge turned up the flame of his lantern and raised it to better see their faces through the gloom and misting rain. "Miss Cantabella, you may proceed." The villager lifted his beacon still higher and his own faintly illuminated expression became one of sneering scorn. "…But he is not welcome here."

Barnham's steely gaze remained on the other man. "I come in peace," he returned, his own lips curled downward in the beginning of a fierce frown.

"Please!" Espella cried, her pleading blue eyes appearing almost black in the darkness. "We're only trying to help."

The former shade moved not one centimeter despite the knight's larger physique and inches over him. "Leave," he repeated coldly, ignoring the young lady. "We do not want you here!"

They viewed each other cautiously; their attitudes reminded the young woman of the time she had seen a couple of dogs circling each other for a fight. What could she possible say to stop a confrontation she most desperately wanted to avoid? She choked on a hurried breath, wishing that either Eve or her father were with her, as each would know how to handle the situation. She felt her pet press against her leg and was suddenly more grateful than ever that cat-Eve had defied her usual pattern and ventured into the rain with her.

Constantine growled and his master broke the glare by looking away for a second. "Very well, I shall leave," Barnham said darkly, his brows practically camping over his eyes. "The least you can do is help Miss Cantabella with this basket. 'Twould be callous to ask her to bear all its weight."

The knight produced the covered wicker he'd been steadfastly holding that whole time; it was certainly larger than the one Espella carried in both hands. He pushed its handle into the hands of the unfriendly villager, turned and was quickly lost to the night.

Reaching her destination at last, Espella tapped upon the door partially left open by the last visitor. She entered, followed by the rather young man who still scowled. Rhoda sat again in one of her chairs, while a couple of the other women brought food from the stove to the few searchers who had come for brief respite from the elements. As Espella uncovered the contents of the baskets, the lady of the house managed the most miniscule of smiles and a few words of thanks. While her cat took a spot by the stove, the girl began pulling out the baked goods she and Patty had layered so compactly, and she distributed them to everyone present. The unfriendly challenger accepted a bun with a scowl and quit the house.

"Do you think Nell would like one?" the blonde young woman inquired, casting her eyes about the room. She selected a roll with swirls of dried fruit pulp, an item which was immensely popular with the children of the town.

"She ran into the other room a little while ago," Rhoda replied tiredly, her own gaze once more falling to the table.

Espella's lips dipped in sympathy. "Do you want me to find her?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine. She's probably fallen asleep." The mother rose from her chair and went to stir the stew which was no longer on the open flame.

One of the neighborly women tsked. "Poor young thing. She's just as worried about her little sister as her mother is. She just needs a little time to herself, to get herself sorted out."

The feline pawed at Espella's basket and the girl scolded her gently. "No, Eve. These are not for you, you naughty little thing."

Conversations held in that kitchen were subdued and mostly to ease the discomfort of waiting, Espella noticed as she continued to bestow Patty's finest on the newcomers. Only sometimes was the flow interrupted when someone either knocked upon the door or simply entered without doing so. She thought she'd only been there a short time when she heard a different sound from without; it sounded like someone bumping against the doorframe. As she was closest, she hurried forth and pulled the door open.

"Eve!" she cried.

"Don't stand there, Espella! We're getting wetter by the moment."

The blonde girl drew back hastily, holding the door while her friend hobbled inside, leaning heavily on the arm of a villager. Espella checked to see if anyone else was coming and then firmly shut the door once more. Hurrying to her friend's side, she helped her to seat herself in one of the chairs. The thinly woven thread of conversation had come unraveled and those present gathered around the former high inquisitor.

"Whatever happened?"

"Here, let me take your cloak, Miss Belduke. It is soaked almost through!"

"Are you all right?"

"What a horrid night! Have you found…anything? Anything at all?"

"Yes, what happened, Eve? Are you badly hurt?"

"I shall be fine," replied she. "I stepped wrong in some loose rocks and fell. I wrenched my knee or something." She lowered her cold hands and placed them gingerly on the affected joint, all the while pressing her lips together. One of the ladies brought another chair close for her to prop her leg. "We've searched for miles and have found nothing. I'm so sorry, Rhoda…"

The mother's hand flew to her lips to stifle the cry which flew past the lump in her throat. A couple of her friends put a hand to her shoulder.

Eve also reached up and squeezed Rhoda's hand. "Everyone else is still out there, though I'm afraid I am no longer able to help. They will find Bianca."

"Th-thank you, Mistress Belduke," the woman replied, forcibly swallowing small sob. "You…you have given me fresh hope. I need to think of what else I can do to help, such as finding something cold for your knee."

"That is precisely what I need, thank you. Would someone find me a couple of pillows?"

"Do you want me to get Jean?" anxiously questioned the blonde girl. "It wouldn't take too long if we hurried…"

"No, Espella. All I need do is keep off my leg, elevate it and apply ice."

One of the neighbors finally returned with, of all things, two packages of frozen spinach which someone had ordered from the mainland and forgotten. Eve placed them within a towel which Rhoda handed her, and then set them against either side of her knee. She pursed her mouth again as she lifted her leg for an additional pillow.

Everyone was settling down again, either to talking, sweeping, or checking that the food hadn't grown too cold, but none of that was to last more than a few minutes. One of the women shivered, complaining of a draft. They all looked toward the door and realized that it was indeed slightly ajar. Someone moved around the table to shut it, but she stopped short when childish fingers appeared around the edge of the wood. The hand was followed by a forehead and pair of eyes peeking into the room. The rest of the child's face and body came after, revealing the last person anyone expected to see.

"Nell!" her mother cried. She rushed toward the girl, fell to her knees and first hugged and then shook her daughter. "What in the name of the heavens were you doing outside on a night like this?! Whatever possessed you to do a thing like that?! Do you think I wanted both my girls to be lost?"

"I'm sorry, Mama! I'm s-soorrry! I w-wanted to find her!" the child blubbered.

"Oh, my darling little one…"

Rhoda brought her weeping, wailing daughter near the stove, removed her sodden clothes and wrapped her in a blanket while the other ladies tried to feed the child hot honey tea and bites of bread. Nell sobbed as if her whole world had come to an end; she would not raise her eyes or even hug her mother who continually embraced and soothed her.

"Can you tell Mama what's wrong?" the mother urged, lifting the small chin.

Nell still refused to gaze anywhere but the floor. "Y-y-you'll hate m-me!" she whimpered.

"You know you can always tell me anything, dear child. I'll never hate you."

"B-but y-you don't know w-what I did!" the girl moaned, hiccupping miserably on her sobs. "I-it's my f-fault!"

The woman, already under such a strain that day, felt her heart and stomach drop a few feet and her breath quicken. No matter what dread she might face, she was beyond the point of return. "Nell, tell me what happened. I need to know right now."

Shivering and weeping harder, Nell suddenly raised her arms and threw them around her mother's neck. "I did it! I wanted to f-find some pebbles and I t-took Bianca down to the river. She w-was sleepy and I put her in the b-b-basket sitting there. I forgot her and…and… I came b-back and she wasn't there!"

Every sound within the room, save that of the child's sobs, was quenched as thoroughly as a flame under the rain which drove against the rooftop. Rhoda's face had gone quite pale and she squeezed her eyes shut as she clung to the daughter who could just as easily have been lost; tears formed beneath her lids and made two shiny trails down her cheeks. Even Espella had to blink away the moistness that crept to her eyes; she dipped her head and used a few fingers to brush the drops away.

Eve was first to break the silence when the young girl's weeping lessened. "Nell… Why did you not tell us sooner?" she asked sadly, though she well knew the answer.

"I w-was too scared! I knew everyone would hate me for what I did! That's why I wanted to find her…b-but I couldn't…"

While Rhoda held her daughter, someone exclaimed, "The searchers need to know! Perhaps now they'll be able… Oh, oh!" With that, the speaker grabbed a cloak from one of the hooks and flew out the door; a couple more women followed.

The mother rested her gaze for a moment on Eve; the latter glimpsed therein the despair and endurance, bitterness and love. Eve wished she had not been so foolish to injure her leg so that she could be one to inform the others of this new information and to aid in the search. She looked away, mentally berating herself thoroughly for such a blunder.

Rhoda took Nell into the next room to further comfort her and put her to bed; everyone left in the kitchen could faintly hear the child's sobs until they finally subsided. A murmur of quiet words began to lighten the atmosphere of the kitchen again. A couple of the ladies argued whether they too should go outside to help or remain in the kitchen.

Espella brushed against her friend's arm. "Oh, Eve… That poor little girl. She must have felt so guilty!"

The other young woman nodded slowly, a faraway reflection turning her eyes dark. "She'll be all right. Her parents are good people."

"I sure hope they'll find Bianca now," she said softly, clasping her hands. "I wonder… Eve, how do you suppose Nell found her way back here in the dark? If I were her age I'd be scared senseless of the forest at night with rain dripping everywhere."

"Hmm… Perhaps one of the men found her wandering and led her here."

"But why wouldn't he come to the door with her?"

"I don't know, Espella! He must have had a reason."

A quarter of an hour later the ladies who had hurried outdoors returned, accompanied by a few more much dampened villagers who were confused as to the suggested whereabouts of the missing child; amongst these was Eben, the front of whose hair was soaked and dripped down his face . All the new arrivals made the kitchen quite crowded, though most avoided bumping into the chair upon which Eve's leg was propped. Tempers were short and voices rose as stressed adults attempted to figure a solution.

Rhoda came from the other room. "Shhh! You'll all wake Nell with this noise!"

Tow-headed Eben turned to his wife, exhaustion and stress circling his too-bright eyes and his mouth a severe frown. "We may have to wake her to get the truth from her. What is this about her losing our baby on the river?!"

The mother blanched, but kept her lips firm as she replied, "It's true. She told me everything. Please, Eben, we have to search the area right now!"

"What's the use? Do you know how cold that water is?" His eyes were both fierce and tormented. "She can't even walk! What makes you think she could swim?!"

The hush that fell upon the room was as palpable as the scent of rain and of burning stew; none of the neighbors dared make a sound. Rhoda gasped and raised her hand to cover her mouth, her watering eyes bearing the most aggrieved look imaginable. Her husband immediately regretting his words, but as there was no way to retract them he clenched both teeth and fist and turned his head away. Eve named herself an utter fool for getting herself into a position in which she could not mediate between them, and Espella stared with wide eyes and concern written across her features.

At that moment, a nearly thunder-like knock sounded on the outer door, causing at least half the persons present to start. At that moment, the most deplorable task in the world seemed to be to answer the summons, but Rhoda, with a look directed toward her husband that rapidly turned baleful, stalked to the door and drew it open with an anger-fueled flourish. Her eyes turned still harder as she recognized the man who stood without her doorstep.

"You! What do you want? What are you doing here?!" she screamed at him.

Almost as abruptly as the words left her mouth, she averted her face, moved away and leaned over the table, her shoulders shaking. Meanwhile, the visitor hesitated but a second and then stepped over the threshold, feeling rather like he was entering a den of lions ready to leap at him. Peeking from the edge of his hood were a few clumps of ruddy hair which stuck to his skin; the rest of the dark fabric was pulled loosely about him, covering his clothes and a portion of his boots. He cast his eyes around, meeting scowling, distinctly unfriendly faces one after the other, save for Eve and Espella. A dirty white dog crouched low near his master's foot.

The newcomer cleared his throat. "Ehrm…"

Eben advanced toward him several steps. "We have made it clear to you we do not want you here. You are upsetting my wife and I want you to leave, now!"

But Barnham remained standing in exactly the same spot; his eyebrow-lowered gaze, once set on the other man, did not waver. "I cannot leave just yet," he said, without an ounce of added expression.

No sooner had the words slipped from his tongue, than the villager advanced again, raising a clenched fist and making a sound low in his throat. However, before Eben could complete whatever action he had in mind, the knight awkwardly swept back the left side of his cloak with right hand, eliciting shouts and gasps from those who faced him. In the crook of his arm was settled the missing baby. Her eyes were closed and her hair, face and clothes were damp.

"What have you done with my daughter?" the father growled. He raised his fists as if he would strike the knight, but then he looked down at the baby and lowered his hands. Though he still glared with hostility, he dared not lower his defenses for fear of losing his composure completely.

"She merely sleeps, I assure you."

As soon as Rhoda turned and beheld the bundle cradled in Barnham's arm, she gave a little cry. In a trice she was before the knight, gently taking her child into her own arms and whispering, "Bianca, Bianca! Oh, my Bianca!"

She sank to the floor and held her younger daughter tenderly against her breast, rocking slightly. The baby stirred and before raising her eyelids opened her mouth with plaintive cries. The father also crouched, leaning behind his wife and reaching a hand past her shoulder to touch their daughter's head as his eyes hungrily took in every detail of her small face. Every shrill wail seemed to her parents but a beautiful reminder that she was alive and with them once more.

Presently, Rhoda rose from her knees and withdrew to the other room to nurse her daughter. The father remained behind long enough to thank all his neighbors for their help and support for his family; when he turned his eyes briefly toward the doorway, it was closed and the knight was gone, having left only some muddy footprints on the floor and a sense of discomfiture in the minds of nearly every person there.

The villagers trickled from the house like a small, late-summer creek. The ladies returned to their own homes and the men would also follow after spreading the news to their comrades who still combed the dark and inhospitable woods. The Storyteller was among those to return to the village, his steps slack with fatigue and his clothes more than halfway soaked under his cloak. As he approached the house, his daughter attempted to help her friend hobble therefrom; a task that proved to be difficult for the slight girl. Whenever Eve put weight on her affected leg she winced and bit back a hiss; the blonde young woman was almost in tears for the pain she felt she was causing her.

"Espella, Eve!" Cantabella called to them.

Both girls stopped and the younger of the two cried, "Dad, thank goodness you're here! Can you help us, please? Eve hurt her knee!"

Rather than ask questions which were useless for the moment, the white-haired gentleman traded places with his daughter at Eve's side. Espella shifted the lantern in her hands and held it aloft to guide their way.

"Thank you," the former high inquisitor murmured as she accepted the Storyteller's arm.

"I still don't see why you just sent everyone else home," the blonde girl whispered aside to her friend.

"Espella, hush! After the effort everyone has put forth today I was not about to prevail upon them further. I daresay we would have made it eventually," she returned, grateful at least that the gloom of the night hid the slight, embarrassed flush of her face.

Hardly had they covered some few dozen yards than the lantern light caught in its glow an approaching figure. The pup at his side identified him immediately as he drew abreast of the threesome, his eyes fixed upon only one of their party.

"M-M-Miss Eve! My apologies, but I did not notice before…you are hurt."

"Tell me something new, Barnham," she retorted, shifting to keep her weight on her good leg. "Now if you will kindly move, we are attempting to reach my house."

The knight moved, but not in the direction she expected. "Excuse me, Mr. Cantabella, Miss Cantabella," he said as he drew close.

Espella stepped out of his way and held her lantern still higher as she watched with growing amusement. Barnham bent his knees slightly and, extending his arms, picked up Eve before she could quite anticipate his action.

"Z-Zacharias! P-put me down!" she cried, grabbing involuntarily at the fabric which cloaked him.

He held her firmly, one hand behind her back and the other beneath her knees, though he was very careful to avoid jostling the strained one. "You are injured, Milady. As a knight, I would be remiss in my duty if I left you…erm…that is, if I left any lady in distress without offering assistance."

As she viewed them, a funny little smile sprang to Espella's lips and she quickly lifted her free hand to disguise it. She glanced at her father and though she could see the tiredness evident in his face, she could also tell by the crinkling of lines around his mouth and eye that the situation struck him in much a similar way as it had her. They shared a brief look and she turned away for fear she might laugh right out loud; she reflected that he had an easier time hiding his mirth by merit of his mustache.

"Knight or not I am still able to walk! Put me down at once, Zacharias!" If her face had been pink before, it had since become as red as Espella's cape. She did not struggle, however, as she reasoned that such a display would prove ineffective at best or injurious at worst, and only embarrass her further.

"Now, Miss Cantabella," he said, daringly deciding to ignore Eve's remonstrations. "Please light the way for us."

"Of course!" she replied.

She was thankful for an excuse to turn away from the two former inquisitors so they would not see how she fought to keep a straight face. Her lantern was a lonely, brave beacon against the damp night which suddenly faced her; with no distractions to keep her from her thoughts, she shivered. Drifting nearer her father and searching for his hand through the folds of fabric draped around them brought her some relief from the fears that crept up on her like raindrops sliding down her back.

He switched the non-functional torch he held to his other hand and offered no resistance as she slipped her fingers between his. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little," she responded softly, for she never wished to tell him of another dark night when she had walked alone.

Eve, with her cape pulled over her as best she could manage, suffered through the trek to her house in chilly silence. She kept her arms firmly crossed and absolutely refused to look at Barnham, if only because the flush that flamed her cheeks. She rebuked herself harshly for the hundred and eighty-ninth time for that one careless step which had put her in her current mortifying position. Most exasperating of all was the stray thought which buzzed around her mind like a blasted fly which evaded all attempts to eradicate it; she was keenly aware of her matted, tangled hair dangling loosely in what could not be considered a braid any more, and she hoped it would not be snagged on bush or errant branches.

Finally they found relief from the cold drizzle when they came under the roof the mansion. Eve once again insisted that she be let down and this time Barnham complied; immediately after, the current inhabitants of her home surrounded her, commiserating over her injury and the beastly night, and helped her up to her room. Espella picked up her pet and accompanied her friend.

The two men, left alone in the downstairs portion of the house, warmed themselves by the fire. Cantabella removed his cape and turned his eye from the fire for a moment. "Barnham, I would like to know what happened. My daughter tells me you located the missing child.

"Er…" the knight hemmed. "I'm afraid it wasn't much, sir."

The Storyteller's gaze on him turned sterner and Barnham quickly swallowed his excuses with a gulp. As simply as possible he recounted how he had started off to search near the river. Constantine, faithful little dog that he was, seemed to have found a scent; they followed its course, roughly aligning itself with that of the river, until they happened upon a little girl who tearfully explained to him what she'd done. He'd led her back toward the village and then returned to search the banks for any sign of the babe. If not for his companion, he never would have spotted a basket overturned on the river's shore, sheltered by a great bulging overgrowth of tree roots. The child, possibly having cried herself to sleep under blanket and basket, seemed none the worse for wear as he picked her up gently and carried her to her parents.

After the knight finished naming only the most important details, the elder gentleman was remarkably silent as he stared into the fireplace and occasionally rubbed his hands before its warmth. Barnham wondered why his superior was so reticent; his only desire had been to help and yet he was beginning to realize he had acted hastily. The last thing he wanted was to widen the rift between the shade villagers and him, the knights or the townspeople in general. Perhaps he should have found someone else to take the child back home instead of doing it himself.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Espella's voice coming from the stairs as she descended with small, quick steps. "Dad, are you still here? Oh good! Can you stay here tonight? Eve says it's quite all right."

Cantabella turned and squinted through the dim, candlelit space between them. "I suppose I will, if that is what you wish."

"Oh, we do! We both want you to stay!" the girl exclaimed, a smile breaking out on her lips. She made to return upstairs, but then seemed to remember something and faced the men again. "Mr. Barnham, thank you for finding lost Bianca tonight. Everyone was so worried!" She moved down the last three steps again. "Are you going back to the bakery?"

"Indeed."

"Could you tell Aunt Patty everything is all right now? I'm sure she's worried. I'd go too but I want to stay with Eve."

"Of course."

Another expression of gratitude left her lips and then Espella flew up the stairs again. When her friend was settled in bed as comfortably as possible, the other women in the house brought some food for them; both of them had been too nervous and agitated to eat back at Rhoda's. The soup was tongue-scorchingly hot and Espella left hers on the bedside table long enough to take a peek through the window's thick curtains. A patch of light briefly shone on the ground below and then vanished as someone holding a lantern withdrew from the house.

"There's Sir Barnham," she said, turning her head toward her companion.

Eve pursed her lips and otherwise managed to look quite disagreeable at mention of his name.

The blonde girl's mind whirled with thoughts of the day as she absently watched until Barnham, his pup, and the glow surrounding them were lost to the black trees. Upon returning to her friend's side, she smiled to see that Eve stroked the black feline behind the ears as she also waited for her soup to cease burning the bowl which contained it. Espella settled herself on the edge of the bed again and also ran her fingers through her pet's fur.

"I'm so relieved that everything turned out the way it did, aren't you, Eve?"

"Except for my ridiculous accident," the other young woman replied, slowing the motions of her fingers. She sighed. "Aside from that, you could say it came to a satisfactory conclusion."

"Oh yes, I didn't mean your knee of course. I do hope it's nothing serious and will heal quickly!" Espella amended. She continued chattering as she cautiously placed her hand about her bowl. "I'm not sure if everyone was more surprised that Mr. Barnham found the baby or that he came back at all. You could have heard a cricket sneeze in the silence after he came in! Do you think they'll start to treat him differently now?"

"Who can say? People are difficult to change, but given the right impetus just about anything can happen."

The younger of the two gave her friend a sidelong glance complete with a mischievously playful sort of smile. "He was pretty wonderful, wasn't he?"

Eve's gaze seemed to be looking further than the walls of her room; her fingers stilled and she pressed her lips together in the slightest bit of a smile before she made reply. "Yes, I suppose he was."

**Author's Note:**

> I've played this game too much! A year ago I got started on it again, after playing it when it was originally localized and released, and I got hooked on it more than I had before! I fell in love with Labyrinthia and the characters all over again. I started imagining what might happen to everyone after the events of the game and those ideas have been simmering on the back burner of my mind for that time as well. The adventures of the Labyrinthians are just beginning...


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